Deepest Mystery, Darkest Conspiracy
by curligurl0896
Summary: The entire Amestrian military has been ordered to search for him. The homunculi will stop at absolutely nothing to capture him. His friends and family are clinging desperately to the fading hope that he's even alive. But the Fullmetal Alchemist seems to have disappeared off of the face of the Earth- and anyway, how do you search for someone who doesn't want to be found?
1. Prologue

**Hey guys, it's me, with my first full FMA fanfic!**

 **Or, at least I hope it'll end up that way. So far I have the prologue, but considering I am bad when it comes to finishing my fanfics sometimes... *hangs head***

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy this first part!**

* * *

Prologue

Alphonse couldn't remember what happened the night before, but he did have a fairly good idea of what must have happened before, based on what he saw now.

No, not just what he saw, but what he felt as well. In fact, it was the fact that he could feel at all that told him, as he hadn't been able to experience any physical sensations since that fateful day when he and his brother had tried to bring back Mom. The suit of armor that had acted as his body wasn't built for that, and while he did miss the sensations that came with a human body, Al had quietly accepted it, trusting that one day his brother would fulfill the promise that he would have his body back no matter what it took to do so.

And it was clear to him that his brother had finally been able to succeed. Al could feel again, could feel the warm sunlight that filtered through the window caressing his skin, could feel the soft blue blanket that covered his naked body. He felt his hair tickling his bare shoulders and his back, hair that was long and overgrown due to years of neglect. He also felt unbelievably weak, his head was pounding like his brain was being bashed against the inside of his skull, and his stomach was painfully hollow, since his body hadn't been fed since he lost it—but even those feelings were better than the nothingness he'd experienced for so long.

Al held a hand up in front of his face, taking a lot more effort in doing so than it would normally take, and simply stared at it in awe and wonder. The hand was a pale, bony thing with long, yellowish brown nails and almost nothing else besides skin and bone. It looked so brittle that Al half-expected it to fall apart if he so much as moved it, and yet—

It was his hand, the hand he'd been born with, rather than the empty leather glove that had functioned as his hand for almost five years. Knowing that gave Al a simple yet incredible joy, one that overwhelmed him even more than the sensations that were currently assaulting his body like a pack of rabid dogs. He finally had his body back, after all these years, and that was all that really mattered to him at that very moment—

A metallic glint caught the corner of his eye, and even as he struggled to sit up and get a better view, he already knew what it was. It was so odd, seeing his armor body from outside of it, still and unmoving now that his soul was no longer occupying it. He briefly considered what he would do with it now that he no longer needed it—it wasn't like there had ever been a situation like this, at least, not that he knew of—but then he quickly decided that he'd worry about it later, when he was feeling better.

He attempted to stand, but of course his legs were too feeble to hold his weight, and he collapsed to the floor, which made him hesitant to try a second time.

Just then there was a knock at the door. Al quickly pulled the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around himself. "Come in," he called.

The door opened, and Winry came in, her eyes widening as she took in the scene before her. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she stared, at a complete loss for words. Al completely understood the look on her face—he couldn't quite believe it, either, and if he didn't know any better, he would have thought that he was dreaming.

"Al," she finally whispered. "Your body…"

He nodded, smiling up at her. "I know, right? Brother did it. He…" Al trailed off as he realized something. "Where is he, anyway?" He hadn't really thought about it up until this moment, as lost as he was in the excitement and joy at getting his body back, but when he imagined this very moment before, he had always assumed Ed would be there, celebrating alongside him. Al knew his brother would've helped support his weight if he were here right now, and probably with that big, happy smile that came so rarely now.

But Ed wasn't there, for whatever reason, and Al couldn't possibly fathom why. Why would his brother not be here with him, so soon after getting his body back? What on earth could have made his brother leave now, of all times? And, more importantly, when would he be coming back?

"We should—" Winry started, but then immediately stopped as he got on his hands and knees and started retching violently. He continued like that for several minutes, heaving so hard he half-expected his insides to come out through his mouth, but of course nothing came out, since his stomach was empty to begin with. Once it passed, it left him feeling weak and exhausted, his headache perhaps worse than before. Briefly he considered whether all this pain was really worth having his body back, but then quickly dismissed that thought—of course it was worth it. It was worth all this pain that he was experiencing right now, if it meant that he could feel the warm sunshine on his face, the cool rain dancing on his skin. It was worth it, being able to enjoy all the sensations that came with being in a human body, sensations that were lost to him when he had that cold and unfeeling metal body.

"Are you okay?" Al wasn't sure at what point Winry had gone to his side—he had been too preoccupied with his own dry heaving to pay any attention. He was about to answer her worried question, but then it all became too much, and an ocean of blackness washed over him, not allowing him a chance to fight against it as it dragged him down into the depths of unconsciousness.

* * *

The next time Al woke up, it was in a hospital bed.

It took him only a second to recall everything. Once he did, he tried to sit up

, and once again it took quite a bit of effort for such a simple task. He looked around and saw Winry sitting in a corner, watching him. She smiled softly at him when he met her gaze.

"You're awake," she said. She stood up and went to the table next to his bed, picked up a little bowl, and handed it to him. "Don't drink it too quickly," she cautioned.

Al did as he was told, though it was difficult—after all those years of not eating, broth seemed like the most delicious thing in the world to him. The warmth of it filled his stomach, and he felt almost sad when he finished it, already longing for more. But instead, he asked, "Where's Brother?" He had asked the question before already, but Winry had failed to answer him, for some reason.

The moment those words came out of his mouth, however, her expression darkened, and she sat on the bed, looking worried. "I don't know," she admitted. "I don't know where Ed is. I mean, I'm sure he's fine, wherever he is, but still…" She didn't need to finish her sentence for Al to know how concerned she was. It was strange that he wasn't here, knowing how much he always cared about his younger brother, and how this meant to him just as much, if not perhaps more, than it did to Alphonse himself.

A horrifying thought popped into his head, and he tried his best to get rid of it, but to no avail. "You don't think… that to get my body back… he… " He couldn't make himself finish the sentence. The idea of his brother, gone, just so he could have his body back was unbearable, and at the same time terrifyingly likely. After all, Ed had been willing to sacrifice his own arm just to keep his younger brother in the land of the living…

If that was what happened, then Al didn't want his old body anymore, not if it came at the cost of his older brother's life.

"I hope not," Winry whispered, her face anguished. "He had to have found some other way. But it does seem like… like something he would do." That was just how selfless he was, even if he acted otherwise. It was one of the many reasons why she loved him, and at the same time it killed her inside, filling her with fear that his selflessness, particularly where Al was concerned, would cause him to be taken away from her at some point. "But maybe he's fine. Maybe he's just fallen asleep somewhere, and we're blowing this whole thing out of proportion." Even as she said it, she knew it wasn't the case, but she ignored the nagging voice in her head that told her so and tried to pretend that everything was okay.

Al looked at her, eyes wide and pleading. "Can you find him, please?" he asked. "I… I want him to be here."

Winry nodded. "Of course," she told him, though it wasn't just for his sake that she was agreeing to this. She also needed to see Ed for herself, to make sure he was okay—after all, there had to be some reason that Ed hadn't been there with Al to help him get used to having his body back. She could only hope it wasn't something bad. Because if it was…

She shook her head, trying to clear her head of those kinds of thoughts, and left, sincerely hoping that everything was okay like she was trying to tell herself they were. She asked around first, trying to see if anyone had just so happened to see Ed, but with every reply of, "No, I haven't seen him at all today," her heart sank lower and lower. Finally, she found herself at the room him and Al were staying in, and what she saw there seemed to confirm her worst suspicions.

She had to have missed something that morning when she came in and found Al back in his original body. Either that, or something had changed between then and now—but whichever it was that really happened, it didn't matter. All that mattered to her was that Ed's stuff was gone.

In fact, it almost looked as if he was never here in the first place, as the room was completely empty of any trace of him. His alchemy books, which would normally be scattered on the desk, were gone; all his clothes were gone, and even the bed, which he sometimes left messy and unmade, looked as no one had ever slept in it the night before. She couldn't help but notice a folded-up piece of paper on the nightstand, which gave her a tiny bit of hope—at least until she opened it up and saw what was on it.

The moment Winry came back and saw Al looking hopefully at her, it was all she could do not to burst into tears right then and there.

"He left a note," she told him, holding it up for him to see. "He left a note, and he didn't leave anything else…" Winry tried to contain herself. "I haven't read it yet." She'd only skimmed through it, but that was plenty enough for her to see what was written there.

She handed the note to him, and he accepted it, staring at the piece of paper now in front of him. It was definitely from his brother—he'd recognized the cramped, barely legible scrawl immediately. Many parts of it had been vigorously crossed out, but not so much so that one couldn't tell what had been written there. Ink had been smeared a little in some places, and water stains warped the paper, making it appear as if someone had been crying while writing it… but that couldn't be right. That couldn't possibly be right, because Edward Elric simply didn't cry. He hadn't cried at their mother's funeral, hadn't cried when they failed to bring her back. He hadn't cried no matter what life threw at him, remaining strong no matter what, using said strength as well as his keen intelligence to get them out of even the most hopeless of situations. Perhaps it sounded like an exaggeration, but Alphonse certainly wasn't lying when he told people he couldn't remember ever seeing his brother cry.

"It must have been really difficult for him," Winry murmured, touching the note with two fingers. "I can only imagine what happened, that he felt the need to… to go, and to take all his stuff with him."

They read the note together, hoping for some sort of explanation as to why Ed wasn't there with him.

 _Al, Winry, if you're reading this, then yeah, I left. I feel like the world's biggest jackass for doing so, for sinking to that bastard's level no matter how much I swore that I never would. Makes me wonder if he saw leaving as necessary, somehow—but that doesn't make things any better. It doesn't make me hate myself any less for having to do this, even if I couldn't figure out any other way to fix the mess I made and keep anything from happening to you._

 _Al, I know you're probably wondering what the hell happened—I can hardly believe it myself. Shit, I don't even know what I did, not really, but that's what I'm trying to figure out. I just hope you understand that I have to do this, and that I can't stand it if anything else happened to you as a result. –I- -a-l-r-e-a-d-y- -f-u-c-k-e-d- -u-p- -w-h-e-n- -w-e- -t-r-i-e-d- -t-o- -b-r-i-ng- -M-o-m- -b-a-c-k-,- -a-n-d- -i-t-'-s- -a-l-l- -m-y- -f-a-u-l-t- -t-h-a-t- -y-o-u- -l-o-s-t- -y-o-u-r- -b-o-d-y- -i-n- -t-h-e- -f-i-r-s-t- -p-l-a-c-e- I was the one who did this, who created the mess in our lives that ultimately led to this, so don't worry about being responsible for it. Just take care of yourself, alright? –'-C-a-u-s-e- -T-r-u-t-h- -o-n-l-y- -k-n-o-w-s- -t-h-a-t- -I- -w-o-n-'-t –b-e- -a-b-l-e- -t-o- -a-n-y-m-o-r-e-.- You got your body back, after all, -w-h-i-c-h- -m-e-a-n-s- -I- -h-a-v-e-n-'-t- -e-n-t-i-r-e-l-y- -f-a-i-l-e-d- -a-t- -b-e-i-ng- -y-o-u-r- -o-l-d-e-r- -b-r-o-t-h-e-r- which is all that really matters. Enjoy it for me, 'kay? Eat all the foods you put on that list of yours—after the hell that you've been through, you deserve it._

 _Winry, I'm not sure how to say this, but –l-a-t-e-l-y- -I'-v-e- -c-o-m-e- -t-o- -v-i-e-w- -y-o-u- -a-s- -m-o-r-e- -t-h-a-n- -a- -f-r-i-e-n-d_

 _-I-'-m- -n-o-t- -e-n-t-i-r-e-l-y- -s-u-r-e- -w-h-e-n- -t-h-i-n-g-s- -c-h-a-n-g-e-d- -b-e-t-w-e-e-n- -u-s-_

 _-D-a-m-n- -i-t-,- -i-t- -i-s-n-'-t- -f-a-i-r- -t-h-a-t- -I-c-a-n-'-t- -t-e-l-l- -y-o-u- -I- -l-o-v-e- -y-o-u- -s-t-r-a-i-g-h-t- -t-o- -y-o-u-r- -f-a-c-e_

 _Just be happy, okay? Find some guy to love you, take care of you, and give you all the kids you want. –a-l-l- -t-h-e- -t-h-i-n-g-s- -I-'-d- -d-o- -f-o-r- -y-o-u- -i-f- -n-o-t- -f-o-r- -t-h-e- -f-a-c-t- -t-h-a-t- -I-'-l-l- -p-r-o-b-a-b-l-y- -n-e-v-e-r- -s-e-e- -y-o-u- -a-g-a-i-n- Just take care of yourself, like I told Al, and live a happy life. –I-t-'-s- -n-o-t- -l-i-k-e- -a-n- -a-s-s-h-o-l-e- -l-i-k-e- -m-e- -d-e-s-e-r-v-e-s- -a-n- -a-m-a-z-i-n-g- -g-i-r-l- -l-i-k-e- -y-o-u- -a-n-y-w-a-y-_

 _And that's pretty much it. I wish I could say more, but I don't really have much time. Don't even bother looking for me, because if something happens to either of you because of me, I wouldn't ever be able to forgive myself for it._

 _Take care of yourselves,_

 _Ed_

Neither one of them said anything for a little while, too shocked to speak. It had been clear that something major had happened, but how bad could it have possibly been, that Ed had seen no other choice but to leave? Alphonse had finally gotten his body back after all these years, but at what price?

"What happened last night?" Winry asked quietly, needing to know, because perhaps then she could figure out what happened to him. Her heart felt like it was shattering into a million little pieces the moment she saw Al shaking his head sadly.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I can't remember a single thing about what happened last night. The last thing I can recall is Brother being excited about something—really excited about something, now that I think about it." Al considered it for a few moments. "Whatever it was probably had to do with me getting my body back. But that's all I know. After that… nothing." Al looked completely and utterly dejected at the realization. He knew that his brother would probably have been glad—after all, this just meant that whoever it was that drove his brother into leaving wouldn't have any reason to bug him, as he knew nothing about what happened last night—but really, all it did for Al was make him determined to find out what happened. Ed might have been under the continuing impression that he had to handle everything by himself, that there was something wrong with letting some of the burdens he had to face land on shoulders that were not his own—but while Al didn't doubt his brother's abilities, not for a single second, he also knew that Ed was being unfair to himself, and was too stubborn to believe that things didn't have to be that way.

Once he got better, Al decided, he'd find out what had happened that night, would find out what price his brother had to pay to get his body back. He'd unlock the memories that were now hidden from him, and though he knew he wasn't nearly as brave or as strong or as smart as his older brother always had been, Al would do whatever it took to stand at his side and help carry whatever burdens that Ed thought he had to deal with alone.

He told exactly as much to Winry, who only sighed and said, "I just hope he's okay. That idiot… of course he'd go and do something like this." Only Ed would try to protect his brother and the girl he cared about by leaving—and hate himself immensely for it, thinking that leaving was completely unforgivable even if it did seem to be the only option.

Just then the door opened, and in strode none other than Colonel Roy Mustang. He stopped when he saw Al, a brief look of surprise showing on his face before being replaced by a stiff smile.

"So," he murmured, "he finally did it, didn't he? Fullmetal finally did what he set out to do in the first place. Though—" he looked around for a moment, seeming confused, and continued, "I thought he'd be here, honestly. I need to speak with him about something really important. He's still a part of the military, after all, even if…" Roy stopped again, looking at the two teenagers, only just beginning to realize that something was wrong.

"What?" he demanded. "What's going on?"

Their only response was silence.

* * *

The train station was as busy as usual, so naturally the officers had their hands full trying to search the crowd. They tried to comb through it as well as they possibly could manage, but still, it was very much possible that the Fullmetal Alchemist could have easily slipped away before the military could catch him.

One particular officer—a fresh-faced young man who had barely joined the military a few months ago—was all too eager to follow orders, but at the same time couldn't help but question them (not out loud, of course—he knew better than to do something like that when he was at the bottom rung of the ladder, so to speak). Why were they after the Hero of the People, anyway? What happened that made the government order the arrest of the renowned child prodigy that gave the rest of the military a positive light?

But either way, orders were orders, so here he was, following them to a T—because what else was he supposed to do? That didn't change the fact that they were damn difficult. He'd never met the Fullmetal Alchemist before, so all he had to go off of was the description his superior officer gave him, and as much as he and his comrades had searched, there was not a single soul that had matched that description at all.

At one point he strode over to one of his companions, wondering if his fellow officer had any more success than he'd been having. "I don't see him," he said, "What was his description again?"

"Gold hair and gold eyes," the other man murmured. "Though he could have easily disguised himself, you know." His statement really made sense—after all, no one else had such a unique description. He wasn't sure of much concerning what happened between the military and the esteemed young alchemist, but he didn't doubt that the kid probably didn't want to be found that easily—so the idea that he'd probably find a way to disguise himself was, for the most part, a no-brainer.

"Then how do we know if it's really him?" the first man asked. He looked around and noticed a pale-haired man with sunglasses passing them from roughly ten feet away. He certainly looked suspicious—but from what he knew, it was probably some guy who was part Ishbalan—after all, they were the ones who wore sunglasses in order to conceal their blood red eyes, especially after the war that killed so many of them. Though it was likely that he was exactly who they were looking for…

"Well, they did say he was supposed to be really short," his companion replied. "So there's one thing that might help us."

"So, he's probably not that guy?" the young soldier asked, pointing at the man he was looking at.

The other soldier followed his finger. "Nope, probably not. He looks a little too tall."

And with that they continued their search, which was, unfortunately, just as fruitless as before.

Once he stepped outside the train station, Ed couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief—those officers had stared _right at him_ and decided that he wasn't the person they were looking for. He supposed it was a good thing that he had been too hollowed-out from what he had just done to really react to those officers' remarks. He couldn't afford to give himself away now, even if he had just been called short for about the billionth time. After all, it was clear that _they_ had already found out, and were already trying to find him. Ed couldn't let himself be found, not after what had just happened.

He tried not to consider what he'd left behind—it was too painful—but unfortunately he couldn't help himself. He briefly wondered what Al was doing right now, and how he was faring now that he had his body back. Ed could only hope that his younger brother heeded the warning he put in the note he left behind, though he had a bad feeling that Al wouldn't let that stop him. After all, if the roles were reversed, Ed sure as hell wouldn't let that stop him.

And as for Winry… well, the thought of her brought a whole river of sweet anguish, especially knowing that there was no way she would have him now. Not after this.

Ed looked back at the train station even as he began to walk slowly away from it. The case was on now—that much was clear—though for how long he wasn't sure. He just knew that he had to figure out exactly he had done, figure out how to fix it without his baby brother having to pay, and bring down the homunculi before they could get involved and make things even worse for the sake of their own hellish interests.

It seemed to be pretty much impossible, of course—but really, Edward Elric never let that stop him before.

* * *

 **For those of you who haven't guessed, the parts in the notes with dashes in between every letter are the crossed out bits, because I couldn't think of a better way to show that.**


	2. Chapter 1

**So... here's the next chapter! Thanks to the guest reviewer and Shiloh Moon for being the first to review!**

 **So, just to clarify, this takes place in the Brotherhood universe, though I might just add a few things that were in the 2003 series, like maybe a character or two that appeared in the 2003 series... Also, I'm not sure exactly at what point during the series does it start, though it's somewhere between seasons 2 and 3.**

 **I actually feel fairly good about this chapter. There's some comic relief in here, as well as a hint of Royai (though to all you fans of the pairing, it's really only just a hint. BLINK AND YOU'LL MISS IT!) Though it does get a little angsty afterwards...**

 **Please review and tell me what you think!**

 **Disclaimer: I regret to inform you that I do not own any of this... as awesome as that would be.**

* * *

"Still no sign of him," Roy sighed, not even bothering to look up from the mountain of paperwork that was currently giving him a massive headache. As much as he hated even looking at paperwork, he also didn't want to see the look of disappointment on the boy's face that would inevitably result from the words he had just said.

Al sighed and flopped himself on the couch. He had been hearing those words, or something very similar, for the past half-year, but they still managed to hurt him every single time. Every time he came here, with that desperate hope that there was some proof that his brother was still out there, still _alive_ , only to be dashed almost immediately when he stepped inside Roy's office… it just made it that much more difficult to hold onto that dying hope. "Nothing at all, huh?"

"Unfortunately not," Roy replied, setting his pen down and looking up. He figured he might as well focus his attention on the boy and the discussion that was no doubt inevitable. "It's the same as always. Just a bunch of rumors and claims that someone saw him, but when it's investigated, there's absolutely no proof that he was there at all." He pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "Your brother isn't making this very easy." _The understatement of the century,_ Roy thought to himself—Ed was making this all but impossible for everyone else.

Al didn't say anything for a few moments, knowing that he should probably leave, as there was nothing else to say at this point. But at the same time he didn't think he could make himself leave, and that wasn't just due to the weakness that still lingered in his limbs as a result of his body wasting away in disuse for five years. He knew how likely it was that there would still be no news on his brother's whereabouts, that the search was probably still just as fruitless as his own attempts to remember exactly what happened that fateful night, but he refused to give up. After all, if it were he who was missing, he had no doubt in his mind that Ed would tear the world apart searching for him. But then again, it probably wouldn't have taken him nearly this long to do so.

Roy was right—Ed wasn't making things easy at all. His brother had been as elusive as a ghost, stubbornly refusing to be found and leading all of Amestris on a wild goose chase that seemed at times like it would never, ever end.

Al finally groaned and asked, "Why does he have to do this? I mean, I know he thinks this is for the best, but does he really think he has to do this on his own? Doesn't he understand how this is affecting the rest of us?" He wanted to go and knock some sense into his older brother, make him understand just how worried he and Winry and everyone else was, and tell him that he was right there to help him deal with whatever it was he had to deal with—if only Al knew where he was in the first place.

"You know him," Roy told him carefully. "He's only doing it because he feels it's absolutely necessary. And look on the bright side— _they_ haven't found him, either." Roy knew he didn't need to clarify what he meant by "they."

"I guess," Al said, not really feeling any better about the whole situation. "Still, I feel so useless when it comes to all this. Brother's out there, somewhere, and I can't do much of anything about it." He took a deep breath. "I can't stand not being able to do much of anything about it. And… I know that I might be able to do more, if only…"

"No," Roy said firmly. He knew where this conversation was going—it had been brought up on several occasions since Ed's disappearance. Roy, of course, had always shot down Al's suggestion thus far, and this time was not going to be any different. "You're not going to join the military."

"How else am I supposed to do this?" he protested. "It'll be so much easier for me to search for him and figure out what he was trying to do if I had access to all those resources as a State Alchemist. I can just take that test right now—"

"You're only sixteen, Alphonse," Roy pointed out.

"Well, Brother was only twelve." Al reminded him stubbornly. "If he was able to do it then, then I should be perfectly capable of doing it now, right?"

"Your brother was an exception. One of the few cases where someone younger than legal adult age was permitted to take the exam." Roy steepled his fingers, remembering when Ed had showed up to take the exam, the determination that flared in his golden eyes, so different from the hopeless look they held when Roy had first met him. "And speaking of your brother, I'm pretty sure that he wouldn't want you involved in this. He'd kill me if he ever found out that I let you become a dog of the military."

"But he's gone, which is why this is being brought up in the first place. If he'd never left, and had just told me what was going on, I wouldn't have to even think about it in the first place."

Roy shook his head. "That's not going to change my mind," he said. "And anyway, you're not the sort of person that would belong being in the military in the first place." Ed's younger brother had always been the softer of the two, that much had been clear to Roy from the very beginning. While Ed had long since developed that tough outer shell necessary for life in the military, Al had managed to retain his sense of innocence over the past five years. This was the kid who picked up stray cats on a regular basis because he "couldn't just leave the poor thing out in the cold like that." How the hell was such a kid supposed to face the horrors of military life, when there were certain aspects of it that even his older brother couldn't handle?

"What do you mean?" Al asked him. "I've practically already been a part of the military, considering how I've always gone with Brother on assignments and whatnot. This can't possibly be any different, can it?"

Roy leaned forward, his obsidian gaze locked onto the teen before him. "Look," he said, "I understand that you're desperate to find him, as everyone else is, but trust me when I say I'm doing everything I possibly can. You don't need to join the military just because you think there's no other way for you to find your brother."

Al gave a sigh of defeat, knowing that the conversation wasn't getting him anywhere at this point. "I guess so," he muttered. He stood up, feeling a little wobbly—but he didn't need a cane to walk at this point, thankfully. He headed towards the door, but stopped briefly to look back at the Colonel. "You'll tell me, right? If you find anything that has to do with… with where he is…"

"I already told you I would, didn't I?"

The teen nodded, knowing that would be good enough—for now, at least. With that, he turned on his heel and left the office, trying to convince himself once again that soon, _soon_ , they would find out where his brother was, as well as discover the mess that made him leave in the first place.

Only a few minutes after Al left, another person came into Roy's office—none other than Lieutenant Hawkeye herself.

"Colonel," she greeted, striding swiftly over to stand right next to his desk. "I just saw Alphonse on my way here. He was inquiring about his brother again, I presume?"

Roy nodded. "He's still so determined to find out what happened to his brother. And every time… every time I have to tell him that we haven't found anything just yet, any more than he has, as much as I really wish I didn't have to. It's always so difficult, having to tell him that." Roy stopped, and then, in a sudden display of frustration that was actually rather unusual for the colonel, slammed his fist on the desk, sending papers flying everywhere. "Damn it, Fullmetal, why the hell did you have to go and do this?" he growled, even though he knew the answer. It was extremely important, enough that the corrupt upper echelon of the government was very invested in it, especially the Fuhrer himself—and by default the homunculi as well. But he didn't know what about the whole situation was that imperative that Ed had the government chasing after him—almost no one did. It made Roy Mustang that much more determined to find the Fullmetal Alchemist, if only to give the boy a piece of his mind for taking off like that and not bothering to inform anyone else about the situation, let alone ask for help—because, even though he would never openly acknowledge it, there was a part of him that legitimately cared about the younger alchemist, hence why he was just as determined to search as Al was. Roy wasn't just doing it for Ed's younger brother, much as he liked to pretend otherwise.

In response to the colonel's outburst, Hawkeye simply stooped down to pick up the papers that had fallen to the floor, then the papers that were now scattered across Roy's desk, shuffled them into a single, neat stack, and placed them back on the desk in front of Roy. "I understand that it isn't easy, sir, but there really isn't much else you can tell him at this point, is there? After all, you _are_ doing all you possibly can. That's really all he's asking of you."

"I know, but that doesn't make it any easier to tell him." In fact, Roy was pretty sure that one would have to be soulless, _inhuman,_ in order to not be affected in such a way by the look on the boy's face whenever he was told that his older brother was still nowhere to be found. It was yet another thing that made Roy want to slap Fullmetal in the face the moment he found him. Didn't Ed realize how much his disappearance was upsetting his younger brother? "And then there's the fact that he thinks joining the military is his best bet, when in reality it's not going to make the search go any faster."

"He brought that up again?" Riza asked, a touch of concern lacing her words. She understood perfectly the colonel's resolve to keep Alphonse out of the military—the younger Elric just wasn't cut out for military life, at least not in terms of his personality. Though Al didn't seem to realize that, even if Roy had no qualms about letting him join the military to look for his brother, he would still have difficulties in doing so, not only due to his age but also the fact that his body wasn't exactly in peak physical condition quite yet—after all, it had spent the last several years wasting away somewhere without a soul. But then again, Alphonse so clearly possessed the very same stubborn determination that Ed did—it was one way that they were very much alike—so she wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if he had ultimately succeeded.

"Yeah, and of course I told him no. Hopefully he won't bring it up again next time. He doesn't need to go through all that just because his brother refuses to be found." Roy blew out a breath, the stress of his job weighing heavily on his shoulders, and ran a hand though his hair. "I'd say that trying to find him is like trying to find a needle in a haystack, but the truth is, a needle can't run away and hide somewhere else if you get anywhere close to finding it." _And,_ Roy thought, scowling at the massive stack of papers in front of him, _it won't create a ton of paperwork in the process._ Roy had no clue how it was even possible, but somehow Fullmetal had managed to create even _more_ paperwork _after_ disappearing off the face of the earth than he created normally (which was a lot to begin with already). He mentally added it to the list of things he'd get back at Ed for upon finally finding him. But in the meantime…

It was unfortunate for Roy at that moment that Riza had always been able to read him very well—she knew exactly what he was thinking as she said, "You know you're going to have to do it. It'll probably be best for you to get it done before you leave today."

"I can't," Roy told her, a legitimate excuse already ready for him to use. "I've got a date tonight."

"Well, I'm sure whoever this girl is, she wouldn't mind at all if she knew you were held up by something rather important." If he didn't know any better, he would say that there was a touch of jealousy in Riza's tone. "Because you aren't getting out of it that easily, Colonel." The look she gave him implied just how serious she was, and Roy groaned, feeling his headache coming back to him in full force just thinking of all the paperwork he was going to have to do.

Paperwork. The bane of his existence.

But Hawkeye really wasn't about to let him get away with not doing paperwork—in fact, Roy knew she wouldn't hesitate to pull one of her guns on him, if not both, if he continued to try and get out of it. So, in the end, he gave in, but that didn't stop Roy from grumbling about it the entire time.

* * *

The dream wad devastatingly familiar to Winry—she had experienced it over and over again almost every night since the day she'd found that Ed left. Yet somehow, even after six solid months, the dream never failed to hurt her in a way that lasted long after she had already woken up.

 _She dreamed she was back in Resembool, back in her childhood home, standing in front of one of the windows in the living room. Winry wasn't entirely sure why she was just standing there, though, and was about to leave and go do something productive, such as working on automail, perhaps, or making dinner—but just then she noticed the all-too-familiar figure standing outside on the grass, staring up at the glittering night sky._

 _She went outside curiously, wondering what Ed was doing outside. Perhaps he was in one of his more contemplative moods, though that wasn't necessarily a good thing, considering how it sometimes weighed him down with unnecessary guilt over things he stubbornly believed were his fault, regardless of whether something truly was his fault or not (it usually wasn't). Ed would always pretend that everything was okay even after getting into such a mood, and seemed to think that Winry (or everyone else, for that matter) wouldn't notice, but she did. After all, she'd known him pretty much her whole life, and so therefore knew him far better than most people did, save for Al and Granny Pinako. It was only natural that she'd be able to see right through him._

 _She was about to ask him what was bothering him this time, but then he turned around, and the words caught in her throat. At that point, she could do nothing but take in the sight of him standing there, the wind gently toying with his braid, his exotic honey eyes locked onto her, filled with an emotion that Winry couldn't understand at all._

 _Because he looked so… so_ sad. _It was as if that emotional agony was etched into every last golden fleck in his eyes, which made her recall a time when he wore a similar look of despair on his face—the days immediately following the failed transmutation of his and Al's mother. It hurt her just as much as it did then, but somehow the fact that Winry couldn't for the life of her figure out why he was so sad made it even more heartbreaking, especially since something told her that it wasn't so much that she didn't know as she didn't_ want _to know what was upsetting him like that._

 _"_ _Winry…" he whispered, a single tear making its way down his cheek. "I'm sorry…"_

 _And with that he somehow vanished right in front of her, leaving Winry standing there, suddenly feeling far too alone._

As a result, her mind instantly jerked back into consciousness, her eyes opening wide before shutting again almost immediately after, blinking against the late-morning sunlight streaming through her bedroom window.

After a moment she sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes while she reminded herself that it was just a dream. She wasn't in Resembool, she was in Rush Valley, and as for Ed… he was missing, He had been for six months. And it was remembering that which caused the ache in her chest which would not fade for some time, just as it had done almost every day since he first went missing.

So really, there was only one thing she could do that had any chance at all of helping, even if it wasn't likely that it would help at all. Even so, after she got dressed, brushed her teeth and ate breakfast, she immediately went to the phone and called Al.

HE picked up almost immediately. "Hello?"

"Hey Al, I hope you weren't busy or anything—"

"If you're calling to ask about Brother, I've got nothing."

Winry didn't say anything right away, letting the words rattle around in her head for a little bit before speaking. "Nothing at all, huh?" She sighed. She knew the answer before she even picked up the phone, but still, she had hoped against all reason that this time, things would be somehow different.

"Yeah, same as always. I'm not any closer to finding him as I was before, and neither am I any closer to finding out why he left in the first place." That, unfortunately, still hadn't changed at all, no matter how much both of them wanted it to. "It'd probably be a little easier if I were part of the military, but Colonel Mustang still won't let me."

"Well, to be fair, Ed wouldn't want that for you, regardless of the reason for it. "You know he—he did keep you from having to go through certain things…" It was one of the few things Winry knew concerning Ed that Al seemingly did not—the full extent to which the elder Elric would go for the sake of protecting his younger brother. Every now and then he'd come back from a mission fairly injured, automail broken, and with Al demanding to know why he went by himself, and though Ed never said anything outright about it, Winry could tell by the haunted look in his eyes, as well as how he couldn't seem to look at Al when confronted about it, that for whatever reason, it was something he didn't think his little brother could handle.

"And anyway," she continued, "didn't you already find a workaround for that?"

"Yeah, but it is pretty flawed. After all, I'm stuck relying on someone else to get certain documents for research. And it's not like he left behind any clues." The only thing he'd left behind was that note, and Al had legitimately tried to decode it, hoping his brother had left some encrypted message that would at least hint at the answers he was searching for. But either the code was just far too complex for him to figure out, or the note wasn't encrypted to begin with, because Al had gotten absolutely nowhere with it.

With all the time that had passed without so much of a hint as to where Ed was or why he left in the first place, it seemed a miracle that both were still able to hold out the diminishing hope of seeing him again.

Winry was about to say something, but just then she heard Mr. Garfiel calling her name.

"Winry, darling, there are some customers here for you!"

"I gotta go," she told Al. "I… I hope you find him soon."

"So do I. Bye, Winry."

"Bye."

When she'd first discovered that Ed was missing, the first thing she wanted to do was find him, no matter what it took. Then the question came up: what could she really do about it? The answer, as disappointing as it was, had been absolutely nothing. She was just an average girl with a talent for automail, and the situation was about so much more than someone going missing—there were things involved that she could never hope to understand. There was really only one thing that she could possibly do.

So today she did the same thing she'd been doing not only for the past six months, but since that fateful day when the brothers had first left on their journey. She waited patiently for him, trusting that he'd be okay and that he'd come back to her, just as he had always done.

* * *

"Envy, is there any news at all on the boy's whereabouts?"

Envy shook his head. "Nope. Damn pipsqueak is still hiding. Well, if he thinks he can get away with playing a game of cat and mouse, then he has another thing coming for him, because I have absolutely no problems being the cat." In fact, it was Father's decree that he be kept alive that was the only thing stopping Envy from killing him. The so-called "hero" that so many humans looked up to was really just a pathetic brat who couldn't even take a life, and just thinking about that fact sickened Envy. Not to mention how the pipsqueak couldn't even be bothered to be a good little human and not completely fuck with Father's plans, which made him just that much more infuriating.

"I must admit, he is quite impressive for someone who's only human," Father murmured thoughtfully. Though he supposed he shouldn't be all that surprised, considering this boy was the offspring of the man he had been made from. Even so, they were still only human—and there was no way he would ever lose to a human. "But one way or another, he must be found. If my suspicions are correct, he might just have found a way to achieve what I've been looking for all this time."

Envy understood immediately what Father was referring to. The surge of incredible power was something that was impossible not to feel, and he'd been ordered to investigate it immediately after it happened. He wasn't sure how the hell the pipsqueak had managed to best him, but that had been the last anyone had seen of thee Fullmetal Alchemist. But that wouldn't be the case for much longer.

"Of course, Father," he replied with a grin. With that he left, thinking of all the ways he could get his hands on Edward Elric once and for all.

Father watched as he left, still thinking. The boy had messed with his plans, effectively delaying the Promised day, and at the same time provided him with an intriguing alternative. It was only a matter of time before he could finally become the perfect being, the _god,_ that he'd been planning to become. Father could easily be patient just a little longer—after all, he had centuries of being patient, making sure that all the dominoes were lined up correctly, so to speak. What was a few more months in comparison?


	3. Chapter 2

**Hey guys, back with another chapter! I thankfully managed to make the deadline I set for myself without getting writer's block and therefore going on an unplanned, indefinite hiatus (which you guys undoubtedly wouldn't like).**

 **Anyway, thanks to the twelve people who are now following my story, and the five people who favorited it! And also thanks to Shiloh Moon (again) and Cutiepie120048 for reviewing!**

 **Btw, remember how I said last chapter that though this fic is set in the Brotherhood universe, I might be adding things, or even characters, that are only seen in the 2003 anime? Well, in this chapter, I did throw in a character that is from the 2003 anime and not Brotherhood in this particular chapter, though it wasn't the character I was originally thinking of when I said that... Whatever. Here's the next chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: If I owned Fullmetal Alchemist, I would have at least had Ed and Winry kissing by the end of the series (either one). But they don't kiss, and I don't own either series, no matter how much I wish I could.**

* * *

The bar was dimly lit, rather grimy and was starting to fall apart, but that was probably due to the fact that it didn't see a whole lot of business—the owner had enough trouble as it was supporting his family without also having to worry about consistent maintenance. As a result, the place was fairly run down, but the few people who did come here didn't seem to mind it all that much.

There was only one person there besides the owner—a hooded stranger who had been sipping the same glass of scotch for the past half-hour, as if he really wasn't trying to get drunk and had perhaps came here because he didn't have anything better to do with his time. His silence had unnerved the owner quite a bit, and he couldn't help but wonder what the stranger's deal was, but he did his best not to pry—after all, the man had seen his fair share of shady figures here, and had, as a general rule, never asked such characters about what was definitely not his business. After all, it was his job to serve alcohol—nothing more.

"So," he asked slowly, needing to start up a conversation with the stranger somehow, "is that all you're going to have for tonight, sir?" He worked on re-cleaning the glasses, making sure they didn't end up collecting dust, while he waited for the stranger's reply.

"Huh? Oh, I'm good. Or at least, I'm good right now." The stranger's voice sounded fairly young, yet at the same time it was loaded with the weariness of an old man, as if the voice's owner had been through far more than any young person ever should. It made the man all the more intriguing—just what the hell had this man been through, anyway?

"Are you sure?" the bartender asked, and the stranger nodded in response. "Well, then, let me know if you ever happen to change your mind."

Since he really didn't have anything else he could think of to say at that very moment, he simply focused on what he was doing, and how he was going to manage to pay the bills this time around. In a few minutes, another customer came, with the clear intention of getting drunk—which he managed to do by the time the first man finally finished his glass. It would have all been good if it didn't result in the shattering sound he heard when his back was turned, which prompted him to turn around and see just what the hell had happened.

Sure enough, the second guy was now staring dumbly at his glass, which was now lay in several pieces on the floor. The bartender simply groaned in response to this—glass wasn't cheap, and now he had to buy a whole new one to replace the one that had just been broken. Sure, it wasn't the first time it had ever happened—it was a bar, after all—but even so, it wasn't like he could really afford it.

Before the owner could really do anything about it, though, the hooded man knelt down in front of the broken glass, clapped his hands, and them placed them, left on top of right, directly onto the pile. A moment later, there was a flash of blue light, so brilliant that it forced the owner of the bar to look away.

Once it was over, he couldn't help but stare in awe, as the glass now looked brand-new, and as if it had never been broken in the first place. There was no doubt in his mind on what had just happened—he had seen alchemy at work once before, a long time ago, and it was just as awe-inspiring now as it had been back then. What was more impressive was that this man hadn't even bothered to use one of those fancy circles that alchemists always used—and from what he'd heard, there was really only one person who could actually do that.

"Wait," the bartender said, looking up from the newly repaired glass, "aren't you…"

But the stranger was gone, disappeared into the quiet midnight, and if the owner didn't know any better, he would have thought that perhaps the man was never there in the first place.

* * *

"Yes!" Al cried triumphantly, unable to help but get excited. A sense of pride and accomplishment began to well up inside his chest—after all, he had just done a successful long-distance transmutation, something that was found only in the practice of Xingese alkahestry. It seemed rather useful, especially in combat, like archery in war at a time when alchemy was not a known practice. It was that, as well as the fact that alkahestry was very advanced in terms of medicine, that made Alphonse wonder why Amestrian State Alchemists hadn't bothered to try and learn more about it before. It could have saved a lot of lives on the battlefield if they had.

"You did it!" May said, inspecting his handiwork. It was nothing fancy, just a bunch of earthen spikes sticking up among the soft emerald grass—but it still made him proud nonetheless, considering the fact that he'd managed to do it from ten feet away. He went to stand over there besides her, and May smiled up at him brightly. "You're really getting better at this."

"I am, aren't I?" He smiled back at her in response. "Though… I probably should have gotten it before. I mean, if… if Brother were here, he undoubtedly would have gotten it long before now…" His thoughts, out of habit, turned to his missing older brother, and Al was one again reminded of how inadequate he was as a replacement for Ed. But then again, there wasn't a single person on Earth who could ever hope to replace Ed—though it wasn't like that would ever be necessary. His brother was practically a force of nature, something to be reckoned with, and trying to stop him was like trying to stop an earthquake from happening. It was precisely the reason why, even after spending six months without so much as a hint as to whether he was still alive or not, the mere idea of his death was beyond comprehension for the younger Elric brother. He simply couldn't be dead, especially because while the world couldn't handle another Edward Elric, it also couldn't afford to lose the one it already had.

"Don't sell yourself so short," May insisted. "You're learning all this at a much faster pace than most people would. And on top of that, you haven't exactly reached peak physical condition yet."

"I know," he sighed. "But still… he always manages to make everything look so… so _easy._ Even the most complicated subjects in alchemy—it's like they're nothing to him. I mean, I know I'm actually really good at this in comparison to others, but there are things he gets almost immediately that even I struggle with." His brother had always had a brain that absorbed knowledge better than a sponge absorbed water, and even with all the people he had met in his short life, he had yet to meet a single person who was more intelligent than Ed was.

"Well, then," May murmured, wrapping a slender hand around his forearm. "Why don't we take a break? It's past noon already, and you're probably pretty hungry after all that."

It wasn't until she brought it up just then that he realized just how true that statement was. "Yeah, actually, I am," he confessed, and his stomach growled loudly, almost as if it were agreeing with him, making the petite young Eastern princess giggle in response.

They ended up eating at a small restaurant not too far away from the park that they were just at. May let Al order for her—she was still largely unfamiliar with Amestrian cuisine, which had, time and time again, proved to be very different from what she had always eaten back home. They sat at one of the intricate black metal tables situated outside, enjoying their meal under the warmth of the bright summer sun, chatting amicably while May absentmindedly fed Xiao-May bits of food from her plate.

"You really have been doing amazing!" May told him. "Trust me, it took me a lot longer to learn this stuff than you have. You'll be a brilliant alkahestrist in no time!"

Al rubbed the back of his neck, looking a tad bit embarrassed at hearing her praise. "Thanks!" he replied. "Though, really, I can't give myself all the credit for that. I mean, I don't think I would have done nearly as well as I've been doing if you hadn't been such a good teacher." The last part was said so honestly that it caused May to blush prettily, the red in her cheeks standing out against her porcelain skin. Al had meant every word, though. At first, it had felt strange, having someone who was three years younger than him explaining alchemical concepts to him—or anyone, really, that wasn't either his brother or Izumi Curtis. May, in any case, had been much more gentle and patient with him, which made it feel even stranger, as he was used to his old teacher's harshness, and Ed's impatience when it took Al longer to understand something than it took him. In her own way, May had made him just as determined to learn everything he could about alkahestry, so he could put it to use one day, and make even the smallest bit of difference in the world.

"Th-thanks," May stuttered, feeling rather self-conscious at the simple fact that Alphonse Elric had obviously complimented her. It was the effect that both brothers had on people, she supposed—or at least, on her—that made their compliments feel far more significant than they meant them to be, as if it were a god praising your abilities instead of an ordinary human being. The effect was undoubtedly a result of the Elric brothers being among the most remarkable people to have ever lived, though Al would insist that he wasn't much when compared to his older brother. It was somewhat true, though not nearly as much as Al seemed to think it was. And it certainly wasn't a bad thing—the fact that he was closer to normal made Al more comfortable to be around, not anywhere near as intimidating, as opposed to Ed, whose existence seemed to be the very definition of impossible. Or, at least, that was the impression May had of him from the short time she'd gotten to know him in, and the many stories Al had told her about him.

"Still," Al continued thoughtfully after a few moments, "there's so much more to learn, isn't there? I feel like I've only barely scraped the surface of Eastern alchemy. I'm sure there's a lot more about it that I don't know about yet, and it's just so… exciting." In fact, he began to feel that excitement bubbling up inside him now just _thinking_ about all the possibilities that he had yet to discover. But then he remembered something, and the excitement died down considerably. "Brother always felt the same way, too. He once told me that it didn't seem to matter what he already knew, because regardless of how much he'd learned, there was still so much out there that was waiting to be found out. He said that it was what he enjoyed the most about alchemy—the fact that there was always more to learn about how it works." Alphonse fell silent, that all-too familiar ache filling his chest at the memory.

"You seem to think about your brother a lot," May observed. She took another bite of her mashed potatoes, relishing the buttery taste of them—once again struck by how different it was from what she was used to back home—while she waited for him to respond.

"Sorry about that," Al apologized, stirring his mashed potatoes, looking as if he wasn't all that hungry anymore. "It's just… I just really miss him. I honestly can't remember a time in my life when he hadn't been there with me for any longer than maybe a day or two, and now… now he's been gone for six months." Al knew Ed could take care of himself, though—in fact, he'd been taking care of the both of them since the day their mother died—and so it was that selfish, childish need for his older brother, rather than any real worries about whether he was alright, that resulted in the younger Elric's determination to find him. Every so often he found himself wanting nothing more than for his brother to be there, to tell him that everything was going to be alright and to promise that he'd be there forever, that he'd make whoever dared to hurt his little brother pay. In his note, Ed had seemed to think that Al would be able to take care of himself just fine, that he could make it alright without his older brother by his side, but Al really wasn't so sure—as far as he was concerned, it was pretty much dumb luck that he had managed okay on his own thus far.

Of course, this dependence on his brother wasn't the only reason Al had been looking for him, but it was a particularly big reason.

"It's supposed to be really important though, isn't it?" May asked him. "The reason your brother left, I mean."

Al nodded, closing his eyes briefly as a cool, gentle breeze brushed against his face. "Though according to the note he left, he still thinks I shouldn't forgive him for it, any more than I should forgive my dad."

"Your dad?"

He nodded again. "He left when we were really little, and we haven't exactly seen him since then. Brother's never forgiven him for it." Al didn't really remember his father all too well—the most he could recall was an image of a bearded and bespectacled man looking down at him, an odd expression on his face that Al now realized after so many years appeared to be something of a combination of joy and sorrow. Ed probably remembered a bit more about their dad, but the problem was that his brother hated their dad, and never reacted well when the subject came up. "He thinks I should feel the same way, that I shouldn't be so easily forgiving. And he thinks it's no different in the case of him leaving."

"But that didn't stop you from looking for him," May murmured admirably. It was rare to find a pair of siblings so devoted to each other the way Ed and Al were, and it certainly was an amazing thing to see, especially to someone who didn't have any real siblings—just a bunch of half-brothers and sisters who squabbled over who got to be the heir to the throne.

"Of course not. But at the same time, the search hasn't exactly been fruitful." Al sighed, knowing that the chances were that this was probably going to go on much, much longer before anyone ever found Ed. "You know, Brother had always been really good at hide and seek when we were little. He'd somehow manage to find the best hiding places, and Winry and I wouldn't be able to find him for hours. And, yeah, the situation is way different, and there's a whole bunch at stake that doesn't include little kids playing a game, but... well, I can't help but feel that this situation is really not at all different from that."

"You're right," a voice stated from somewhere behind him. "It isn't any different. Though I daresay that there just might be more people playing this game than you originally thought."

Al jumped nearly ten feet in response, and then turned to look at whoever had been speaking. There, roughly five feet to his right, stood Ling Yao—or at least, Al was fairly sure it was Ling at that very moment, a wry half-smile on his face.

"Hey, Al," he greeted, then turned and grinned at May, despite her shocked and almost angry expression. "Sister."

* * *

Several miles away, roughly two hour's drive from Central Command, Roy sighed, wishing that he had cause to be much more optimistic about the search for his missing subordinate than he was now. But the feeling in his gut told him that this was going to be another dead-end, just like all the other times he'd been sent to investigate rumors about how the Fullmetal Alchemist had been spotted in some place or another. In some cases, it seemed to be nothing more than some elaborate scheme meant to benefit certain people, and unfortunately they were usually done well enough that it couldn't be proven that those people had simply wasted the government's time as a result of their selfishness. In other, rarer cases, the people making the claims seemed to be fully honest when they swore up and down that they had, in fact, seen Edward Elric with their own eyes—though it was clear from the varying descriptions that he'd been disguising himself, never wearing the same appearance for long, which was partly why it was so hard to find him, and it was usually some other detail that gave him away, such as his alchemic abilities, and particularly the fact that he didn't use a transmutation circle. Either way, neither case ever yielded any solid evidence—Ed was obviously far too careful for that—but Roy did hope that this particular investigation at least turned out to be a case of the latter, because if he had to deal with any more greedy bastards trying to get the military's attention for their own gain, then he was going to have them arrested, technicalities be damned.

The investigation honestly wouldn't have been all that bad if it weren't for the fact that Roy was stuck working with Archer, of all people—a man who seemed to use his military rank as an excuse to be a complete and utter jackass to ordinary civilians. His insistence on being a part of the investigation was undoubtedly due to his eagerness to prove himself to the higher-ups in the military, and though Roy understood his ambition, and could hardly condemn him for it—he'd be a hypocrite if he did—Roy also resolved to not climb up the ranks the same way this guy did, which included constantly sucking up to the higher-ups and acting more like a dog of the military than any State Alchemist he'd ever known.

Roy stepped out of the car, looking at the run-down old building in front of him. It was a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, seemingly perfect for someone who was hell-bent on getting past the military's radar. The walls were peeling yellowish-white paint, the windows were covered in a thin layer of grime, and an old rotting sign hung just over the door, faded black letters announcing the name of the bar.

He felt his lips twitching upwards, staring at the location that his subordinate had supposedly been spotted at. He never imagined Fullmetal to be the type to be found at a bar, of all places, though Roy supposed that, considering his life on the run, among other things, that even Ed had to blow off some steam every now and again.

"How pathetic," Archer growled, suddenly beside him. Roy turned and found that his companion's icy blue eyes were locked onto the place, his face now twisted into a sneer. "The so-called People's Alchemist really doesn't have any sense of taste, does he?"

"Well, taste probably doesn't matter when you're on the run," Roy pointed out. "And anyway, it doesn't matter, so long as we find him, right?" But it was unlikely, he knew, and it was probably even better this way. It wasn't because Archer didn't know about who was really running the show, and what was really going on in their country—in fact, Archer was perfectly aware of it all, Roy was absolutely sure. It was because he simply didn't care, and still obeyed without question, only caring about his own goals and desires and not how he achieved them, unlike Roy, whose motives were on a more personal level.

"Of course," Archer replied, and there it was—that gleam in his eye that told Roy just how much he wanted to be the one to capture the Fullmetal Alchemist, if only for the sake of impressing his superiors, enough to allow for a possible promotion.

They went inside, finding the interior to match the exterior in terms of condition, and saw a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and a drooping mustache busily cleaning a glass. He looked up at them, startled, eyes widening when he realized what was going on.

Roy cut to the chase, saying, "We've been told that you've seen someone here that you've suspected to be the Fullmetal Alchemist."

The man shook his head. "There wasn't any suspecting involved, sir. It was him, I swear it was."

"Can you tell me what he looked like?" Roy knew that it the question wouldn't do any good, but even so, he had to try.

"Didn't get a good look at his face. He was all covered up. There was nothin' that I could see that would have made him recognizable."

"What makes you so sure that this man was, indeed, the Fullmetal Alchemist?"

"There was this other patron who broke one of my glasses, and he fixed it up like magic. Like it was never broken in the first place. And he didn't even need one of those alchemy circles to do it." The man's reply certainly seemed to narrow it down, but Roy knew that there were probably quite a few people that he didn't know about that were also capable of transmuting without a circle. But then again, considering how rare it seemed to be, there was a pretty good chance that the person the man was telling them about was exactly who they were looking for.

"Do you have any idea where he might have gone?"

"No sir, none at all."

"Are you sure he didn't mention anything about it?"

"No sir. In fact, he didn't really say much at all."

"Listen," Archer hissed suddenly, done staying silent and listening to Roy's interrogation, "you'd better not be holding back any information. And you sure as hell better not be wasting our time. Because if you are, then you will ultimately end up regretting it, understand?"

"But I wasn't holding back any information! I don't know anything else, I swear! I—"

"Is there anything else you can tell us?" Roy interrupted. "Anything that might be even remotely important?"

"Well, there was his, ah, demeanor. Something about him made it seem like…. like…"

"Like what?" Roy prompted.

"Like he'd been through hell and back," the man replied softly. "More than once, even."

 _Of course he seemed like that._ Because it was true, in a sense. Both Elric brothers had been through far more than most people ever did in their lifetimes, and it often showed, seemingly without the brothers even being aware of it.

After that, there really wasn't anything else Roy could ask the man, so the next thing to do was search the town for any sort of clues left behind that hinted towards Ed's current whereabouts (most likely, there wouldn't be any clues to find at all). But just then it happened—the whole world began to tremble, as if some giant, invisible hand were shaking the very foundations of the earth.

* * *

 **Yeah, I know. I left a cliffhanger there. But hopefully, you won't have to wait any longer than two weeks (as that is the deadline I set for myself).**

 **Please leave a review! Reviews make me happy!**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Here I am, back with the next installment of this story! Thanks to all who have favorited and followed it, and thanks to Shiloh Moon for yet another lovely review! In response to said review:**

 **Honestly? I know next to nothing about alcohol, considering I've never had it before... so really, I don't know what scotch tastes like, let alone whether Ed would actually enjoy it or not. I just imagined him sitting there, drinking something, though not nearly enough to actually get him drunk (don't worry, he isn't that stupid). Though I have written Ed drunk before; if you want to read it, it's part of my FMAB oneshots (the second one btw).**

 **Anyway, I'm glad you liked that chapter! Honestly, I wasn't too sure about it, but then again, we are our own worst critics, aren't we? I'm just glad that someone feels that I did a good job portraying Al's feelings about Ed being gone. I mean, he's always had Ed no matter what, and so the fact that he's been gone for half a year is supposed to be a really big deal... I'm thankful that you think I successfully managed to capture that :)**

 **Now, about this chapter... I haven't exactly read any fanfics that involve the particular pair of characters that make an appearance in this chapter (you'll see what I'm referring to in a moment), nor have I written anything that involves them. I've read/wrote stuff that involves one, sure, but not the other, and definitely not both together like this (not romantic, though; again, you'll see in a moment), so do please let me know if you think I've gotten it right. I _think_ I did, but even so...**

 **Anyway, without further ado, here's the next chapter:**

* * *

"Sister?" May repeated incredulously, unable to believe Ling's audacity. "You think… that just because we share a father, that it gives you any right to call me _sister?"_ She scoffed at the mere thought of it. If anything, they were rivals, both of them trying to earn the Emperor's favor for the sake of their clans and therefore the right to be called his heir—something only _one_ of the Emperor's many children could receive. With something as big as that standing in between them, such titles were more of an insult than anything else.

"Well, if you want to look at it that way, I suppose you could. After all, that's what one of the Zhou twins told me when I said the same thing. Don't ask me which one, because I can't remember."

"Twins?" Al asked him curiously, and Ling nodded.

"Identical twins, in fact. But that doesn't mean they aren't set against each other in trying to become the Emperor's heir, just as the rest of us are. Only one of us could be granted that title, after all. It's actually rather sad, if you think about it." Ling pulled a chair from a nearby table, pushed it in front of their table, and plopped himself in it. May huffed, hating the fact that he basically waltzed in here and ruined their… well, it wasn't exactly a date, as it hadn't been specified to be anything of that nature, but May, with her tendency for overly romantic fantasies, certainly liked to think it was. "Anyway, I'm famished. Mind if I order something? I don't have any money on me right now, though. I hope that isn't a problem."

"Uh, sure," Al replied, and once again he was reminded of his brother—or, at least, how Ed would react in this situation—which would've included not only an outright refusal, but a string of obscenities while Ed explained to Ling _exactly_ what he thought of the idea. He could practically hear his brother's voice now, telling him he was too soft for his own good. _Damn it, Al, don't be such a pushover. If he doesn't have any money, then it's his own fucking fault. Tell him to go mooch off of someone else._

 _Well,_ Al thought, _we can't all be like you, Brother. I certainly can't._

Just then something occurred to him. "Wait, I thought that you wouldn't need to eat, considering…"

" _I_ don't." His voice sounded different, which was the only indication that it wasn't Ling talking, but rather the homunculus Greed. "But _he_ does. That's one of the downsides of inhabiting a human body—you have to constantly nourish it, or else it'll be useless and weak. Not to mention how he'll pass out after just a few hours of not eating."

Alphonse still wasn't entirely sure what to make of Greed. On one hand, he wasn't exactly a good guy—he seemed to be just as cold and cruel as the other homunculi, and often referred to humans much the same way—as if he were far superior to them. Greed may have rebelled against Father, but his intentions were far from noble—it had absolutely nothing to do with the wrongness of Father's plans. It certainly didn't mean that he would be on their side—and he wasn't exactly the most trustworthy of people, the avarice he was so named for taking precedence over everything else.

But even though he was like that, despite his always selfish motives, his tendency to look down on humans, and the disdain he expressed upon finding out that Alphonse had actually gotten his body back ("Why the hell did you want your body back in the first place, anyway? You were pretty much immortal! You didn't have to worry about eating or sleeping at all. You didn't have to worry about feeling pain, didn't have to worry about aging. Save for your blood seal, you didn't have to worry about death at all! How _dumb_ do you have to be to want to give all that up?"), Al could honestly admit that Greed really wasn't all that bad. He kept his word, and, unlike the other homunculi, apparently had morals, even if he didn't have that many. He certainly never showed any malignant intent towards Al at any of the several times he had saw him since That Day. And Ling didn't seem to mind sharing a body with him—if anything, the two of them seemed to have come to some sort of a compromise in regards to the body they now shared.

Once his food arrived, Al watched as Ling (or maybe it was Greed) tore into his food ravenously, feeling a somewhat morbid fascination while he did. He always wondered where all that food went, since Ling seemed to eat at least as much as ten men. It seemed to defy the laws of physics, the way he was able to fit all that food into that slim body of his. It also made Al wince a little just thinking about how much he'd have to pay for all that food, but even so, he couldn't bring himself to say no to his friend. Besides, it was a little too late for that anyway.

"Gee, thanks a lot! That was delicious!" Ling sighed contentedly, lacing his hands behind his head, and leaned back in his chair, tilting it a little bit. Al fumbled with his wallet, hoping he had enough money to pay for all the food. Miraculously enough, he did, but only just barely.

"So," May began, her tone rather chilly, "mind telling us what in the world you are doing here?" Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, and she didn't look very happy, though Al really wasn't sure why that was. Aside from the whole "sister" comment, Ling didn't seem to have done anything that would obviously upset her. Maybe it had something to do with the homunculus that now shared his body. Or perhaps it was because they were fighting for the same thing, knowing only one of them could become their Emperor's heir, that caused May to act a little more hostilely towards Ling. It seemed likely, but then again, Al had a feeling that there was more to it than that.

"What were you talking about?" he asked curiously. "You said something about there being more people than we originally thought. What did you mean by that?"

"Simple," he replied, and then his voice shifted as Greed took over. "As you already know, we are on a quest to gain the secret of immortality. So is every other one of the Emperor's children. A situation like that, as you can imagine, is enough cause for some desperate measures. This _will_ determine who the next Emperor is, after all."

"And _I'm_ going to be the one who finds it," May cut in, feeling the urge to say it aloud. She _had_ to be the one, if only for her clan's sake. "I'll be the one to find the secret to immortality before anyone else does. Right, Alphonse?"

"Uh, yeah, sure, I guess," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "But what does all of this have to do with my brother, anyway? It's not like he knows anything about immortality."

"Or _does_ he?" Greed's question was smooth and straightforward, easily disarming him. "After all, you admitted yourself that you have no clue what happened that night, other than the, ah, _physical_ evidence." He gestured towards Al as he said the last bit. "It was likely he did much more than just that."

"Well, he must've gotten his limbs back, too, seeing as he was probably able to do that, as well." That certainly had to be the case—after all, Ed had suffered plenty without the limbs he'd been born with. Though he never really said anything about it—as much as Ed complained, his complaints were never about important things, particularly where his wellbeing was concerned—Al knew that having automail was hard on his brother's body. It was heavy, it hurt when the nerves were connected, and it was likely part of the reason for the height issues Ed so thoroughly denied he even had. It only made sense that if he were able to get Al's body back, he would get his missing arm and leg back, too.

"But… what makes you think he knows anything about becoming immortal? I mean, honestly, I don't think he'd be the kind of person to really care about that…" In fact, Al was _sure_ his brother wouldn't be the kind of person to really care about that.

"Just a rumor, is all," Greed replied. "Though I can't imagine why he wouldn't take the chance, if he really found out how to become immortal. After all, who wouldn't want to live forever?"

"Wouldn't it get a little boring after a while?" Al pointed out. "I mean, after a while, there really isn't anything new to experience." He honestly couldn't imagine what it was like, being immortal, and he had no desire to _ever_ know, really—because honestly, the idea of never dying _scared_ him a little. "Somehow I don't think it could possibly be as fun as you're making it out to be."

Greed snorted. "Still as naïve as ever, I see." He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just thought you'd want to know that there are other people out there who are looking for your brother, all for personal gain, of course. Not that I wouldn't understand such a thing." He grinned wickedly.

Before Al could say anything, however, May spoke up again. "If you've said everything you wanted to say, then why are you still here?" Every second that he was—that _they were_ —here meant less time she got alone with Alphonse, simply enjoying each other's company before they went back to practicing alkahestry. And that was something she definitely did not appreciate. "Everything was going perfectly before you—"

Her words ended with a loud shriek as the ground started shaking, and Al honestly couldn't say which one startled him more. The earthquake really wasn't all that violent, and it actually didn't last all that long, probably more than a minute or two, in fact—but to him it felt like ages, his mind racing during every last second of it. Earthquakes weren't exactly common in Amestris, and in fact this was the first he'd experienced in his entire lifetime, at least as far as he could remember, so honestly the event _scared_ him a little.

When it ended, it was silent for a moment. Then people began to panic.

* * *

A few days later, Roy Mustang was at his desk, grumbling about having to do more paperwork and how all this paperwork would inevitably be the death of him one of these days.

The earthquake had, of course, thrown things into chaos, especially because there hadn't been one in about half a century. There had been quite a bit of damage, of course, which included the partial collapse of the very building Roy had been in. Roy himself had come out of the whole thing mostly unscathed, save for some cuts and bruised and a sprained ankle (though as to why he had to endure this hand-cramping, mind-numbing crap while waiting for it to heal, he had no clue). The poor bastard they'd been interrogating had gotten much worse, and was undoubtedly still in the hospital as a result. That jackass Archer had bailed right after, leaving Roy to offer compensation on the military's behalf—which is exactly what he did. _Let it be known,_ he'd thought to himself then, _that the military really isn't all that bad like they think it is._

 _Especially since Fullmetal isn't around to prove it anymore._

Speaking of, Roy was now back to square one in the spectacular search for his subordinate—not that he was really all that surprised. If anything, he would've been shocked if they had managed to find some sort of lead, because that would mean that Fullmetal had slipped up, something that definitely hadn't occurred as far as Roy knew. After all, they weren't searching for any ordinary kid. They were searching for someone who not only could be notoriously stubborn when he wanted to, but also was far, far too smart for his own good.

Just as he was ready to take a nap right on top of the stack of paperwork still sitting on his desk (damn it, he was just so _tired),_ Hawkeye came in just then, carrying a steaming cup of coffee, which she immediately placed on his desk.

"Thanks, Hawkeye," he muttered, and Hawkeye didn't by any means miss the sarcasm in his voice. "You're a lifesaver."

He sipped at his coffee, not caring that the bitter black liquid burned his tongue and scorched his throat. The stress was weighing heavily upon him, and as much as he would much rather not have to think about it, Roy was pretty damn sure he didn't have much of a choice.

"Is something wrong, Colonel?" Hawkeye, ever the observant one, asked him.

"I'm done," was all he said. He took another slow sip of his coffee, and Riza waited as patiently as she could for his reply. But instead he sat there and didn't say anything, his dark eyes weary, his shoulders hunched as if there was some heavy weight settled upon them.

When it was clear he wasn't going to clarify what he meant, she decided to try and prompt him into answering. "Done with what, Colonel?"

"Everything," he replied, the single word being spat out suddenly and sharply, like a knife being thrown. "I'm done dealing with _everything._ I'm done dealing with military issues, done dealing with all these mountains of paperwork, done dealing with _them,_ done dealing with Fullmetal—I am _especially_ done dealing with Fullmetal! I mean, does he always have to make things so damn _difficult?"_ Every word of the last part of his sentence was punctuated by his fist slamming against his desk. But before Hawkeye could say a word, he continued on. "Never mind, don't answer that, because of _course_ he does. The real question is _why._ Why is he doing this? Why is he in hiding? Why are they insisting on going after him? What are they trying to do? _What do they want with him?"_ Roy's tirade, as fiery as the flames that came with a snap of his fingers, ended just as quickly, and he slumped forward on his desk, face-first into the stack of papers he still had yet to sign.

A long moment stretched in between them, so utterly silent that you could hear a pin drop from miles away. Finally, Riza asked, "Are you all right?" She knew that Mustang had been rather stressed out, lately, what with everything going on right now, but he wasn't one to snap like this often. No doubt the worry was all but eating him alive.

"'M fine," he mumbled. "Just really stressed out, is all. I need a break." Just then something occurred to him, and he looked up at her. "In fact, it should be just about time for that, am I right?"

"What are you planning on doing?" she asked, noticing the look in his onyx-colored eyes.

"Oh, nothing," he replied, standing up and wincing as, too late, he remembered that he had to try and keep his weight off of his injured ankle. "Just figured that it's about time that I go and visit an old friend of mine."

By the tone in his voice, Riza didn't have to ask any further. She knew _exactly_ whom he was referring to.

* * *

It was a fairly nice day out, the azure summer sky almost perfectly clear, save for a few wispy clouds drifting lazily across it—something Roy did, in fact, notice as he hobbled forward on his crutches to his destination, cursing under his breath.

Damned things. He'd only been using them for a couple of days, but he already hated them with a fiery passion. If he didn't need them to get around, he probably would've tried to burn them by now. It made him think of that one time when Fullmetal had broken his right foot, his flesh foot, and had spent the next month and a half grumbling about having to use crutches and how they were a complete pain in the ass, something Roy didn't fully understand until now. The thought of it made him almost laugh.

Fulllmetal. The kid seemed to be popping up everywhere in his life these days, and yet not a single soul knew where he truly was at that moment. The irony of this was not at all lost on him.

After several moments, Roy stopped, panting slightly as a result of the exertion it took to get here. He stood, staring down at the all-too-familiar tombstone of Brigadier General Maes Hughes, its plain appearance saying nothing about the man it represented aside from the information permanently etched into its face. Hawkeye had offered to accompany him here, and normally he would take the opportunity to spent time in the lieutenant's company for reasons that were not strictly professional—but this time he declined, feeling the need to be alone while he did his best to try and clear his head as well as remember his friend, whose unexpected death had rattled him to his core, quite similar to the way the recent earthquake had rattled everyone else.

Roy wasn't ever a religious person. Science simply had no room for religion, something that all scientists knew better than anyone else. Alchemists were no different. And even so, what point was there to religion, when it didn't prevent the hells he had seen with his own eyes from ever existing in the first place? What point was there, when it didn't stop innocent children from being murdered and violent wars from being waged? No, it was foolish to believe in some mystical God that would be willing to solve all your problems, foolish to believe that there was some sort of heaven for all the good people to go to when they died, foolish to believe that when someone died, there would be some kind of waiting for them, something other than nonexistence—because really, what tangible proof was there that such things really did exist?

But even so, it didn't stop that idiotic and all too human part of Roy from stubbornly believing that Hughes' spirit was around somehow, and could in fact hear him just fine, if only to rationalize the words he needed to get out of him now.

"Hughes," he said. "It's been a while."

His words were met with nothing but complete and utter silence—but then again, what else was he supposed to expect? His friend was dead, and the dead were unable to speak.

"The whole situation with Fullmetal still hasn't changed a bit," he continued. "No surprise there. Seeing as that kid could hide himself inside a keyhole if he wanted to, it's no wonder we're having so much trouble finding him." He couldn't help but make the crack about the boy's size, something Ed had always been _ridiculously_ sensitive about, for whatever reason. Roy could already imagine Ed's reaction if he'd actually been around to hear that.

But he wasn't there, so all Roy got in response was a gentle breeze blowing in his face and messing with his hair, and his almost humorous mood quickly faded.

"Your wife and daughter are doing fine, by the way. But then again, you're probably already aware of that, seeing as Gracia still visits you almost every day. I'm almost surprised that I haven't seen her here yet, as a matter of fact."

This time, the answering silence just filled him with an overwhelming sense of melancholy as the memories filled his head. Usually, Hughes' extreme obsession with his wife and daughter were annoying as all hell to Roy, especially when they were supposed to be on duty. But after Hughes was shot and killed… suddenly Roy would do anything to hear the man endlessly gushing about his "two precious, darling angels" once more.

"The thing is, Hughes… sometimes I really wish I could somehow switch places with you. Don't get me wrong, I still have plans to become Fuhrer, and I don't want to just give that up, but on days like this? On days like this, I can't help but think that you would've been much better suited to deal with some of these problems than I ever would be. And I know this isn't true at all, but lately I feel like all I'm ever good for is setting things on fire." He laughed, a hollow, humorless chuckle that sounded far too loud in his own ears. "I'm no good when it comes to finding out the reason for Fullmetal's disappearance. It's been over six months, and I still don't have a damn clue why he's gone." The most he could figure out was that it likely had something to do with the thing Hughes was trying to tell him before getting shot—and he hadn't been able to figure out what that was, either, despite having an even longer time period to do so. "And I sure as hell am no good when it comes to telling Alphonse that his older brother is still nowhere to be found. Those things, they fall under _your_ area of expertise. Yours, not mine."

He let out a long, loud sigh. "But all that doesn't matter, does it? It doesn't change the fact that you're dead, and I'm here, doing my absolute damnedest to stay afloat in this huge mess. Still trying to find out why one of the best men I ever knew had to fucking die." Roy swallowed back a wave of emotion, knowing that it wouldn't do him any good at this point, and found that, miraculously, he felt a lot less stressed as a result. As always, talking had somehow managed to lift a huge weight from his chest, even though the person he was talking to was now dead, and so therefore had no words of wisdom to offer him. He didn't know how it worked out like that, but he was grateful for it regardless.

"Well, I'd better get going, then. As much as I'd absolutely love to stand here procrastinating, Hawkeye will no doubt kill me for trying." And with that, he left his friend's grave, starting the now-arduous journey back to his office, and back to one of the few women who had actually been a constant in his life.

* * *

 **BTW, the whole sprained ankle thing is also not something that comes from my personal experience. All the info about it came from Google, of course. So if I haven't gotten it right somehow, please do let me know. I'd really appreciate it.**


	5. Chapter 4

**Yep, here I am! I finally finished this next chapter! I hope it's okay. I'm afraid it might be a little rushed, but in my defense... it just hasn't been my week this week. But whatever. I couldn't let that stop me, not when I have a bunch of lovely readers. I mean seriously, 11 faves, and twice as many follows. Thanks, you guys! And thanks to Shiloh Moon, Tarem, and ice shredder for the lovely reviews! I'm glad you guys are loving this fic!**

 **To Shiloh Moon: I'm so flattered that you think the last chapter was that good! Seriously, it's compliments like that which encourage me to keep writing! And I really did try for that last scene, seeing as it was about Hughes' death, and that was pretty much one of the saddest parts in the whole anime! Seriously, it almost made me cry... and I could literally count on one hand all the times I've cried as a result of a fictional scene. I'm not even kidding, either.**

 **To Tarem: All I could say is that you'll find out... eventually. In the meantime, you'll have to wait :)**

 **And yeah, Ling is a fun character. Though as to whether he's going to stumble upon Ed, by accident or not... well, we'll just see about that, right?**

 **To ice shredder: Just as I've said before, you're just going to have to wait and see what Ed's up to.**

 **And really, when is Ling stuffing himself not hilarious? Especially when Ed kicks him out of the nearest exit for it. Something that Al just doesn't seem to have the heart to do.**

 **About Hughes... I know, right? When I was watching that particular scene in the anime, I actually knew that there was going to be a death, thanks to the Netflix episode summary, but when poor Hughes got speared by Lust's nails, I was like, "No, please no! Not Hughes! _Anyone_ but Hughes!" When he survived, I felt pretty hopeful about it...until Envy shot him, of course.**

 **Anyway, I was actually a little unsure at that time what to put in for the last scene, but then an idea popped into my head to have Roy visit Hughes' grave, and though it wasn't super significant to the plot or anything, it was definitely important to Roy as a character (after all, this is his best buddy we're talking about).**

 **Disclaimer: Do we really need to go through this again? Fine. I don't own anything from Fullmetal Alchemist. I just write crap about it.**

* * *

Ch. 4

That night, Roy felt a renewed determination to find out what Hughes was trying to tell him before being shot and killed, as well as the very reason for Ed's disappearance. His resolve to get to the bottom of this confusing mess, however, didn't stop him from being afraid of what he'd find once he did so. His gut told him that this was actually far bigger, far deeper, and far more complex than anything he could've possibly imagined it to be—and his gut had that uncanny tendency of always being right.

Regardless, he wasn't about to give up. He owed Hughes that much, to find out the secret that his friend had died for. If anything, he just wished he had figured it out already, so he could actually do something about this mess—at least, more than he had so far, which pretty much amounted to nothing.

Roy slowed his car to a stop as he noticed someone he knew would likely want to go where he was headed to right now, and then proceeded to roll down the window of his car.

"Alphonse," he called, and the boy stopped, looking up at him in surprise, his eyes widening.

"Colonel!" he exclaimed.

"I'm heading over to do some research," Roy told him. "Would you like to come along?" Of course, he was pretty sure he already knew the answer to that.

Sure enough, Al replied, "Oh! Of course!" With that, he scrambled up into the car, shutting it behind him as Roy began to drive away. He fumbled with his seatbelt for a moment as he spoke.

"I hope I'm able to find something today. I mean, I know it's not very likely, but even so, it's better than nothing, right?"

"I guess," he replied unconvincingly. He wished he could share Al's optimism in terms of the situation, instead of the dreadful feeling that things simply weren't going to turn out that way—that, if anything, they were going to get worse instead. Perhaps that was a little more realistic, especially considering everyone who was involved in this; but then again, if there really was no hope, then what was there left for humanity to cling to in its darkest moments?

"I suppose it's no different than when the two of you were looking for a way to get your bodies back, huh?"

Al shook his head. "No, not quite the same," he replied. "It's not the two of us this time. Just one of us. Just me." _Just me, trying to find out why my brother thought it was necessary to leave, hoping that if—_ when— _I do, I'll actually be able to do something about it._ And though Al was usually the more optimistic one, even he was starting to doubt that he'd be able to achieve anything. At least, when it was him and his brother, Ed would always reassure him that there was still hope. _Next time, Al,_ he'd say. _Next time we'll find a way to get your body back. Just you wait._ And even when it was obviously a front, even when it seemed like Ed himself didn't fully believe those words, they would still make him feel that much better about everything. But his brother wasn't around to say those words anymore, and all he could do now was carry on by himself as he searched for the answers he so desperately desired.

 _Why did you leave, Brother?_ he wondered, just as he had countless times since the day Ed vanished. _Just what happened that night that made you think leaving was necessary?_

He'd tried to remember on his own, he _really_ did. He'd been hoping that, even if he didn't find the answer right away, that something, _anything,_ would jump out at him, triggering the memories locked away inside his own head. But that still had yet to happen, unfortunately for him.

After several moments, Al decided to speak up once again.

"Hey, Colonel Mustang?"

"Hmm?"

"Why do you think Brother left?"

Roy groaned internally. Damn it, what was he supposed to _say_ to that? He knew that Alphonse wasn't exactly a little kid, but even so, there were still moments where he seemed just like one (though Roy couldn't blame him for that—both boys had their childhood forcefully taken away when they committed the taboo in their own desperation to have their mother back). This was one of those times. Though he probably didn't intentionally ask in such a way, Al's question was like a little child asking questions that were far too difficult to answer. Like little Elicia asking why her daddy had to be buried when he still had work to do. And though he wasn't entirely incompetent when it came to taking care of kids (thanks to Hughes, of course, whose daughter he'd had to babysit on more than one occasion), he wasn't sure what to say when they asked a question that he himself wished he had the answer to.

In the end, Roy, seeing no other option, decided to be blunt about it. "I'm just as clueless as you are about the whole situation, Alphonse," he said. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Al's reaction. There it was—that look of disappointment on the sixteen-year-old's face, as if he'd genuinely hoped that Roy somehow had all the answers (which he didn't).

"Oh," he murmured quietly. "I—I guess I kind of knew you'd say that already. I just hoped that... that maybe you heard something about it that I hadn't yet." _Just as I thought,_ Roy mused silently. He'd learned to read people fairly well over the years—though not that it helped him any in this case.

"If I happen to hear anything about that, you'll be the first to know," Roy promised him.

"Thanks! And actually, there was another reason I brought up the question. I was just thinking about what Greedling said when I saw him— _them—_ just the other day."

"Greedling?"

"Just the name I came up with to refer to them—in my head, anyway. It's just… it's kind of difficult and confusing, referring to them separately, when they share the same body and most of the time I'm not entirely sure which one is in control—particularly when they're not saying anything."

"That makes sense, I suppose. Just… be careful when they're around, alright?" Roy knew it probably wasn't necessary for him to say that—after all, Alphonse was a smart kid—but even so, he'd still felt the need to say that. While one of them was a friend, the other was a homunculus, and as far as he was concerned, homunculi were cruel and soulless monsters. Though there was a chance that it wasn't always the case—his knowledge of them was rather limited, after all, and for all he knew there were others that were far more human than those he knew—the fact still remained that he had yet to meet a homunculus that he could trust even half as far as he could throw them.

Al nodded. "Of course I will. Anyway, Greed said that… that Brother might have somehow found a way to become immortal, or something like that. I don't think it's very likely, though. He never really cared about that kind of stuff."

"I agree. He's never really seemed to want anything else besides getting your body back. I mean, he didn't even want to move up a couple ranks." It was something that Roy, in all his ambition, completely failed to understand—the simple fact that Ed seemed to be lacking in it. Sure, it was probably a result of his being so devoted to his brother, and while that was definitely something admirable… well, there was nothing wrong with having other goals and wanting things for yourself, right? "If he can be so nonchalant about a simple promotion, then I highly doubt something as big as immortality would hold any interest for him. And anyway, I'm pretty sure it's one of those things in the world that are all but impossible."

"That's not stopping the Xingese from looking for it. And supposedly now some of them are looking for _him_ because of it."

Roy snorted. "Who _isn't_ looking for him at this point?" he muttered. "Your brother's got the whole damned military, the homunculi, and now apparently a bunch of Easterners looking for him. And yet we _still_ haven't found him yet." He had to admit that it was _damned_ impressive. He wondered how the hell Fullmetal still managed to stay hidden after all this time when there were so many people trying to find him.

Roy stopped the car, then stepped outside, biting back a curse as, once again, he accidentally stepped with the wrong foot, sending pain shooting up his leg. He let out a loud curse and then proceed to grab his crutches from the backseat. He couldn't wait for the damn injury to heal already.

Just as he straightened himself up, he noticed a familiar figure coming out of the building he'd parked in front of. He squinted. _Wait a minute… isn't that—_

"Sheska!" Al cried, waving as he ran up the steps.

Right. That girl Hughes had hired, on account of what was supposed to be an amazingly impressive memory of the things she'd read. He'd seen her around a few times, but that was all; he didn't really know her, unlike how Al seemed to.

"Al! Hi!" Sheska greeted, smiling at him.

"I haven't seen you around lately," he commented. "What've you been up to?"

"Oh, nothing much!" she replied. "Just working and, you know, reading in my spare time." She gestured to the library behind her. "You know me. Just can't help myself."

A thought struck him suddenly. "Hey, Sheska… you're here all the time, right? Do you know if Brother was here? You know… before he disappeared?"

Unfortunately for him, Sheska was shaking her head. "No, I don't remember if he was here or not."

"You… don't _remember?_ " Perhaps if this were anyone else, Al wouldn't have been so surprised. But the fact was that Sheska was known for having an incredible memory, something Al had seen firsthand.

She looked a little uncomfortable as she answered him. "Really, it's only the stuff that I read that I'm particularly good at remembering. Other stuff, well… not so much." She now looked almost embarrassed as she continued. "And anyway, I was probably too busy reading to notice anything else."

"Oh. Well, that's okay. I knew it was probably a shot in the dark to begin with." Al rubbed the back of his neck. "I was just hoping that maybe if you'd seen him, you might have seen what he was researching, so that maybe I could learn why he vanished in the first place."

"Oh, of course. They still haven't found him yet, have they?" She smiled kindly at him. "Well, I'm sure they'll find him soon. After all, it isn't like he can stay gone forever, right?"

"Right." _But,_ Al thought to himself, _Brother certainly seems keen on trying._ Even so, those words made him feel just that much better—because things wouldn't stay the way they were forever, would they? Even though Ed was still gone, it would only be a matter of time before Al would be by his side once again.

* * *

Meanwhile, while Alphonse was once again trying to find the cause for his brother's disappearance, the brother he was so desperately trying to search for flopped himself on the bed, once again feeling that incredible sense of exhaustion that had become as familiar to him as a favorite blanket ever since this whole mess began.

He wouldn't be able to stay here very long—he knew that very well. Even though he picked a rather small, off-the-map town to crash at this time, he knew it was still likely that they'd find him—and that was something he simply couldn't afford. Not when he still had yet to obtain the answers he needed to fix his mistake. As it is, he could hardly sleep despite his exhaustion, knowing that at any moment the military could bust in and find him there, have him surrounded, and that would be the end of it. Granted, he could—and definitely would—try hard as all hell to escape despite that, as there was no way he was simply going to give up that easily, though he had no doubt that they would probably be prepared for that, and would do whatever they felt necessary to subdue him. And though Ed knew he was, in fact, pretty damn good, he was really only one person, and could only hold off so many people at once. As a result, he never let himself forget what was at stake—because if they caught him and he hadn't resolved everything that needed to be resolved… well, to put it simply, that would be _bad._ Real bad. Though he didn't know nearly enough about the situation, he definitely knew that much.

Perhaps if he hadn't screwed up every now and again, he could stay in one place longer than he had been. And really, it wasn't like he hadn't shown restraint in avoiding doing alchemy in public—especially since it was the distinct lack of a transmutation circle that tended to give him away (in addition to his automail—but that had only been a problem maybe once or twice so far). But there had been a few instances where he couldn't stop himself, feeling that he absolutely had to do something, like he couldn't leave those people in their crappy situations, knowing he was able to do something about it.

Ed couldn't help but smile sadly as he realized something. In a way, it was just like Al and stray cats—unable to refuse when you knew you could actually do something to help. He could just imagine his precious baby brother now, pleading with him to keep some stray that he'd picked up while Ed wasn't looking. _Look, Brother,_ he'd say. _You wouldn't turn away a helpless little creature like this, would you? Please? I'll take care of him, I promise!_ Al had no idea how many times Ed had wanted to say yes to him, even though, in Ed's case, cats and him usually didn't mix well (often they'd end up either scratching or biting him—or both). If it hadn't been for their situation, he would've given in a long time ago, honestly.

Just thinking about it made Ed desperately want to see his little brother now—but he knew that wasn't an option. So instead, he stayed there for a minute longer, his eyes closing briefly before they snapped open again and, after taking off his coat and putting it on the bed, he headed towards the bathroom, the uneven pattern of his footsteps filling the hotel room.

He splashed cold water on his face, hoping it would wake him up a little, and then simply studied his reflection. He ran his automail fingers through his hair, considering it for a moment before he transmuted the color from its current dark brown shade back to its natural gold color and then proceeding to brush through it with his fingers. As stupid as it sounded, he wasn't able to bring himself to cut it when he first went into hiding, and he hadn't been able to bring himself to do so after, even knowing it'd help disguise him better. The most he'd done was transmute the color, which seemed to do a good enough job, thankfully.

He almost never looked like this anymore—the way he naturally looked—and when he did, he always made sure he was always alone and that it wasn't for long. Too long he'd had to play the role of an unassuming stranger, a nobody that the world wouldn't suspect, wouldn't question, and though he managed pretty well, for the most part, it bothered him sometimes, knowing he had to push down the reality of who he was for the falsehood of pretending to be someone he wasn't. A large part of it was his pride, wanting to be recognized as the Fullmetal Alchemist, the young genius so famously known throughout Amestris—because, really, being the famous Fullmetal Alchemist was something to brag about, and something only _he_ could brag about. And because of his situation, not even he was able to do that, because if he gave himself away, then everything he'd worked for over the past six months would be lost.

Another, smaller part of it was something he was pretty sure was irrational, as irrational as him not wanting to cut his hair, but it didn't stop him from wondering about it sometimes at night, when anyone else would be asleep. Because who wasn't to say that, if he pretended long enough, that the real Edward Elric would well and truly disappear? And, if that happened, then who would he really be then, other than a tangled web of lies? Would he end up becoming something twisted and warped, like Envy in his true, hideous form? Or would he ultimately cling to the fragments of the identity he had forged for himself while in hiding, believing that to be the real him?

Definitely an irrational fear—there was no way he would forget who he was that easily—but it didn't stop him from pondering about it every now and then.

 _It would be so much easier, you know,_ said a familiar voice, _if you'd just leave this place entirely, go somewhere else entirely, somewhere where no one would have any chance of finding you. After all, what's the point in staying here?_

 _No,_ Ed thought. _I still have to fix what I've done. I can't leave the country, not when the answers are here._

 _Really, for someone who's supposed to be a genius, you fail to understand the point. You've gotten what you wanted—your younger brother's body back. Who cares about what happens after that?_

 _I do,_ Ed growled mentally, tightly gripping the sides of the sink, _because I screwed up again, and I'll be damned if I don't fix it._

 _What makes you think you have to?_

 _I can't let things go the way they are. Not when I don't even fully know the consequences, or why Father is so keen on finding me because of what I've done. And… I can't leave Al and Winry at their mercy like that. Even if I'm never able to see them again, I'm not going to leave when I can do something to keep them out of this._ That was what he'd been trying to do by leaving in the first place, but even so, he couldn't do anything to protect them if he was so far away from them—it was difficult enough doing so now. Ed would never forgive himself if something happened to either of them, even if it wasn't his fault, it didn't mean that he couldn't have prevented it, and knowing that would have been what really killed him inside.

 _How soft. Well, I suppose it's your choice, isn't it? Let's just hope you don't ever come to regret it._

But Ed was pretty sure that, as long as it meant that his loved ones were okay, he would never come to regret it as long as he lived.

* * *

Envy sat back and waited, folding his arms behind his head in an almost bored manner. He'd shifted into the form of an average soldier, someone they wouldn't question being here—after all, he was in Central Headquarters, and Wrath was the only one of them the public was familiar with—seeing as he was the one with the title of Fuhrer of Amestris. This was one of the many cases where his shape-shifting ability majorly came in handy—it was so much easier to carry out Father's plan when he didn't need to hide in the shadows. It never failed to amuse him, seeing how easily manipulated humans could be.

After quite some time, the door opened, and in strode Colonel Archer, accompanied by a dark haired man who studied his surroundings with a cold, dispassionate gaze. Archer saluted him, and said, "I brought him here just as you instructed, sir."

"I can see that," Envy snapped. But his tone didn't entirely faze the man, who clearly wanted something for him—and Envy had no doubt what that thing was. "I'll see what I can do about a promotion. In the meantime, you're dismissed."

"Yes, sir." And with that, Archer turned on his heel and left obediently, and Envy couldn't help but sneer at his turned back. Humans really _were_ too easy to manipulate, and Archer was no different—all he'd needed to do was dangle the promise of climbing up a rank or two, and the man had acted accordingly, eagerly. Somehow, it never failed to amuse him, how far they were willing to go for their own selfish desires.

"So," the newcomer began coolly, bringing Envy's attention back to him, "I've been told that the government is once again in need of my… services."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, that's correct. Tell me, what have you heard about the Fullmetal Alchemist?"

The man grinned wickedly. "Let me guess… you want my help in looking for him? Because I've heard that he's been giving quite a bit of trouble, what with his little vanishing act."

"Correct. Of course, he's not the only one who's been giving us trouble, but he is our main problem at the moment. And it would be a shame not to let your talents go to waste when they are needed." The words felt like utter bullshit in Envy's mouth, but then again, they always felt that way when he said something even remotely complimentary to any human. But then again, he rather liked this particular human, who was certainly not soft and weak like most humans—his role in the war Envy himself caused was proof of this.

The man snorted. "Well, then, in that case… what will I get in return?"

"Freedom, of course," Envy replied smoothly. "And… I dare say we'll likely have some future assignments for you that I'm pretty sure you'll enjoy quite a bit."

"Will I, now?" This time, he laughed outright—a sound that would have been unnerving to any ordinary, weakling human. "That's good, then. I haven't been able to have some fun in quite some time now. Fine, then, I accept."

Envy grinned. "Perfect," he said. He knew it was only a matter of time before they got the pipsqueak. He had been as annoying as the little bug he was thus far, but that made Envy only more determined to find him, just as Father wished. "I'm sure you'll be the one who's able to lure him out of wherever he's stuffed himself now, seeing as you wouldn't hesitate in exploiting his weaknesses. As a matter of fact, I'll definitely be looking forward to it… Kimblee."

* * *

 **So, there you go. How'd you like this chapter? How long did it take you to guess who the person in the last scene was? Leave a review and tell me what you think! Pretty please?**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: I am so, sorry for making you wait a whole week longer than I intended. Seriously, I've been keeping a two-week schedule, and now it's been three weeks since my last update, and I feel a bit guilty for not updating until now. It was a combination of writer's block and chronic laziness, and a certain incident otn Monday where I kinda lost my laptop. Obviously I got it back, but not until the next day...**

 **Anyway, thanks to the 14 people who faved and the 27 people who followed! In response to the lovely reviews from last chapter...**

 **Shiloh Moon: Once again, sorry for all the angst. And I'm still glad that you're reading this and take the time to leave a review!**

 **LinaIX: I'm glad you think so! And yeah, I know, poor Ed. I'm putting him through so much... but alas, it is for the sake of the story.**

 **Tarem: Lol I tried to be subtle about it, but not so subtle that it wasn't impossible to figure out on your own, so long as you looked closely enough. And yeah, you pretty much hit the nail on the head there.**

 **Btw you guys are going to get to see more of everyone's favorite psychopath in this chapter. I think I got him right; I double checked the FMA wiki just to make sure.**

 **Disclaimer: Moo, I'm a cow. Just kidding, no I'm not. I kinda wish I was, though, seeing as cows are the ones who own all the cool shit, like, let's say... the Fullmetal Alchemist series.**

* * *

"You've got to be kidding me," Roy stated dully.

Hawkeye shook her head. "I wish I was, Colonel. But I'm not. In fact, I saw him myself just a few minutes ago on my way here."

Roy tensed upon hearing that. "He didn't say anything to you, did he?" he demanded. He hated the mere thought of it, of the woman who always had his back associating with that… that—

"No, he didn't," she reassured him. "And even if he did, you don't have to worry about me, you know. I'm fully capable of taking care of myself, after all." She briefly touched one of the pistols hanging at her hip, a gesture that was, no doubt, meant to remind him just how true that statement was.

"Of course," he sighed. "It's just… I can't believe they actually did this. No, wait—scratch that. I can definitely believe they did something like this." The military was corrupt, after all, something he'd been aware of for a very long time—and something he'd been planning on changing once he'd become Fuhrer. Of course, he hadn't realized just how bad it was until he'd learned that not only was the current Fuhrer himself part of it, but he was also one of the monsters who were planning nefarious things that no doubt threatened the country of Amestris as a whole. After finding that out, he supposed he really had no reason at all to be surprised at the fact that they'd released a monster, a cruel and sadistic psychopath from prison, and even went so far as to give him back his rank in the military and title of State Alchemist.

But that didn't stop them from being horrified, knowing that was what had happened.

"You know why they released him, Colonel," Riza told him. "They're getting desperate. After all, it's been over six months." She didn't have to clarify what she meant at this point. Roy knew what she was referring to. Everyone in the damned country knew.

"I don't care how desperate they are. That monster should've stayed locked up in prison. Hell, they should've given him the death sentence. It would've been exactly what he deserved, what with all the shit he's done." Roy stood, this time making sure to lean most of his weight on his good ankle. He grabbed his crutches—hopefully he wouldn't have to put up with the damned things for much longer—and began to head towards the door at a painfully slow pace, wanting to forget the news that Hawkeye had just delivered to him.

"Where are you going, sir?" Riza asked him. Roy simply turned and glared at her almost tiredly.

"Home," he answered her. "I'm going home, Hawkeye, because it's been a long week, and I'm tired, and anyway if you didn't already notice, I've finished all my paperwork, and _early,_ if I might add." Even Roy himself would admit that he was really, really good at procrastination, which was not at all a good thing. That, combined with the fact that there always seemed to be a never-ending supply of paperwork, resulted in his finishing earlier than he normally did being nothing short of a miracle of a God he didn't believe in (though considering he had a trained sniper threatening him every time he slacked off, it probably wasn't really all that crazy—Roy had been willing to do just about anything right then and there, just so long as it meant avoiding Hawkeye's wrath). It surprised him, and at the same time it made him feel relieved—after all, it meant she had no excuse to nag him about it anymore. He was now free to spend his time trying to relax, to clear his mind before considering the results of this frightening new development—and with what he had going on tonight, he felt confident that clearing his mind wouldn't be all that difficult. "And anyway, I have to get ready for tonight. I'm meeting someone at a restaurant not too far away from here. I _am_ a very busy man, after all."

By the way he spoke about it, it was obvious that the someone Roy was referring to was of the female persuasion—something Riza was not at all surprised about. Riza knew, perhaps better than anyone else, that Roy Mustang was a player, a _womanizer_ , and it honestly bothered her to know that he spent all his free time seducing women and ultimately having his way with them.

Not that she said anything to him about it—after all, it wasn't like his constant fooling around with other women affected her in any sort of personal way.

Roy left the office with a curt "See you next week" for Hawkeye, as usual. He had been tempted to add a "Be careful" as well, but he knew he didn't have anything to worry about—this was _Hawkeye,_ after all.

He felt more than ready to put aside his worries, even if for just a few hours. He briefly wondered what he'd say to his date about his sprained ankle, but then realized that he could possibly use it to his advantage. He'd tell her exactly what happened, perhaps embellish it a little—after all, ladies _did_ like a man with heroic tendencies. The woman would no doubt feel sympathetic towards him, and would possibly offer to care for him on account of his injury. Then, if he was particularly lucky and he played his cards right, perhaps he could even get the woman to take care of him _in other ways…_

Roy would've been content to continue on like that, heading to his car and considering how he was going to charm the pants off of his newest date, but then a cold voice spoke from somewhere behind him, shocking him out of his thoughts like a bucket of ice water.

"Well, if it isn't for the so-called Hero of Ishbal."

Roy turned around slowly, and then saw the very last person he'd wanted to see at that very moment.

Solf J. Kimblee stood there watching him, dark eyes cold and cruel as they'd always been, a sneer plastered onto his sharply angled face, looking for all the world like he _hadn't_ just spent the last several years of his life in prison. He had foregone the typical military uniform—State Alchemists were only required to wear uniform on special occasions (which was precisely why Fullmetal had been able to get away with it)—and instead wore his trademark snow-white suit, perfectly spotless despite all the blood the man had spilled while wearing it.

"What the hell do you want, Kimblee?" Roy sighed, seriously hating the situation he now found himself in. All he wanted was to go home and get ready to spend time in the company of yet another beautiful woman, but now he found himself being confronted by a psychopath.

The Crimson Lotus Alchemist grinned wickedly at him. "Oh, nothing," he replied, his icy tone clearly mocking. "Just wanted to say hi to an old wartime friend of mine."

Roy scoffed at Kimblee's use of the word "friend." Well, if that's all you wanted to say to me, then _hi._ Now, if you'll excuse me—"

But of course he wasn't going to get away that easily.

"Just one question," Kimblee said before Roy could even finish his sentence, let alone get the hell out of there. He tilted his head to the side, his piercing, hellish dark gaze almost inquisitive, but still more deadly than a sword through the heart, as he continued, "The boy that everyone's looking for… the Fullmetal Alchemist… he's supposed to be _your_ underling, is he not?"

"Of course he is," Roy said carefully, trying to guess Kimblee's motives for asking such a question. _Aww hell,_ he thought, _what exactly does this man want with me, anyway?_

"And yet you haven't been able to find him yet, after all this time." Kimblee's tone was so calm, so matter-of-fact, it was as if he were doing nothing more than pointing out an observation of his—but it was the words themselves that made the other man bristle.

"To be fair, _no one_ has been able to find him after all this time. And it sure as hell isn't because of a lack of trying. We've devoted just about all the resources we have available to finding him."

"Ah, but I actually doubt that's true. After all, if you really had been trying, then surely you would've found him by now. _You_ especially—considering the fact that you're his commanding officer, then you should have a better understanding than the others of just what makes that boy tick, and then therefore be able to come up with the perfect plan for capturing him."

"What, do you think you have a better plan?" Roy demanded. If so, then he wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was.

"As a matter of fact, I don't just _think_ I have a better plan, I _know_ I have a better plan. You see, I've always found it extremely useful to learn everything I can about my prey before hunting them down. So I made sure to be well-informed about the boy. I know just about everything there is available to know about him—where he grew up, how old he is, what he looks like, his time as a military dog, his accomplishments, his trademarks, his automail… and especially his younger brother." Roy couldn't have missed the emphasis on the last statement even if he'd tried.

He stiffened. "Alphonse is just as clueless about his brother's whereabouts as the rest of us," he replied monotonously. "You're not going to find any success with that."

"Even so," Kimblee countered, "there isn't anything wrong with keeping tabs on him. After all, from what I've learned, the Fullmetal Alchemist simply isn't the type to leave his brother all high and dry like that, am I right?" His grin was now utterly psychotic, telling Roy that he didn't have to answer that. He already knew what the answer was going to be.

Of course. Of course Kimblee already knew Ed's biggest weakness. Of course he knew how to completely shatter the boy's resolve. And of course he was more than willing to harm an innocent young teenager to do so.

As horrifying as the thought was, it really wasn't surprising in the slightest, considering the man he was dealing with.

In fact, Roy was starting to feel like nothing could surprise him anymore.

"For your information, that has already been taken care of. I have been personally keeping tabs on Alphonse Elric while in the process of searching for his older brother. And he hasn't seen Fullmetal once since his disappearance almost six and a half months ago.

"Well of course you haven't found him yet, if that's how you're going to be like," Kimblee accused. "I have no idea what your problem is with this. The kid has a weakness, and the best way to capture him is to exploit that weakness, simple as that. The fact that all of you seem to have a problem with doing so is something I fail to understand."

"Are you _really_ insinuating that I should harm and possibly even kill an innocent civilian for the sake of following orders when there are other, better ways to go about it? Because if you are, then you really are as bat-shit insane as they say you are."

Kimblee snorted. "Oh, _please._ You're such a _hypocrite,_ Mustang. You have absolutely no right to act so high and mighty, not when your soul is as black as mine." A moment passed, and that psychopath's smile was back on his face, accompanied by an almost sly look in his eyes. "Or have you forgotten what happened in Ishbal?"

For once, Roy actually failed to come up with a good, strong reply. As Kimblee's words bounced around the inside of his skull, he was assaulted by a barrage of memories already forever etched into his brain—memories of the bloodcurdling screams emitted by the people he roasted alive, the fear and hatred in the crimson eyes of his victims as they looked at him, no doubt wondering why they had to die, and that unmistakable stench of human flesh after it had been mercilessly devoured by the tongues of his own flames…

If only he were so lucky as to forget what happened in Ishbal… but he knew that he never would, not so long as he still existed.

"Well," Kimblee said, finally speaking after several long moments, looking as if he'd gotten bored of waiting for Roy to say something, "this has certainly been an interesting conversation, but regrettably I have important business to attend to. I suppose I'll see you around, _Flame._ " With that, he left, and Roy breathed a heavy sigh of relief, glad that the man had decided to leave, and that he no longer had to put up with Kimblee's mind games. After several more moments, he started heading ever so slowly towards his car again. The conversation with the Crimson Lotus Alchemist had him especially looking forward to spending time in female company tonight—because he needed a distraction more than ever now.

* * *

 _Al wasn't sure where he was at that moment, but even so, there wasn't an ounce of fear in him as he took in his surroundings._

 _He certainly didn't remember being here before, but then again, he and his brother had been so many places on their journey to have their bodies restored that he could've simply forgotten. It certainly didn't look like a particularly memorable place—from what he saw, it seemed like he wasn't in a bustling big city like Central, nor was he in a rural tiny town like Resembool—but rather, the place he now found himself in seemed somewhere in between. The amount of small buildings lining the cobblestone street was the only thing that told Al of this, though—it certainly wasn't the amount of people, as it was early morning, and the only people out at that moment were a homeless drunk person muttering loudly to himself and a figure, a man, striding purposefully down the street, seeming to be in quite a hurry._

 _Perhaps any other person would've been intrigued, seeing the figure. Perhaps they would've wondered why he was in such a hurry, or what they could possibly be doing up so early. Perhaps they might've even gone so far as to question the man's slightly limping gait, wondering what had happened that could've caused it._

 _But even though Alphonse did, in fact, wonder about those things, it had nothing to do with his interest in the person. No, it was the overwhelming gut feeling he had, the feeling that came over him so suddenly that it truly didn't occur to him at all to question it, that really got his attention._

 _He really couldn't explain to himself how he knew. There wasn't any hardcore proof that he was right, after all. But he did know, in the same way that birds knew how to fly south for the winter, or which way was south in the first place. He knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, despite the fact that the hair color was clearly and obviously all wrong, and the face was impossible to see from where Al was standing, and there was no other defining feature to confirm it—_

 _That the figure his focus was on now was, in fact, the older brother that he'd been searching for all this time._

 _"_ _Brother!" Al cried, following after him. Ed didn't turn around, though, and Al decided that his brother must've not heard him. Ed did tend to get so deep in thought every now and then that it was as if he were in another world, and it usually took a few tries to bring him back to reality._

 _He tried again. "Brother!"_

 _This time Ed paused, but when he turned around and look, he had an oddly confused expression on his face. It was as if he didn't even realize that his little brother was right there, which frustrated Al, and made him that much more determined to get his brother to notice him. Unfortunately, though, his attempts still continued to fall flat, and when his brother's eyes swept over the spot where he was standing as if he weren't there at all, a feeling of dread began to percolate in the pit of his stomach._

 _How does Brother not see me? He wondered. After all, Al was right in front of him, and it wasn't like he was invisible or anything—because that just wasn't possible, right?_

 _But knowing that did nothing to soothe his panic._

 _Al tried one last time, silently pleading for his older brother to acknowledge him. "Brother!"_

 _Just as he was ready to give up, Ed's eyes seemed to lock onto him for a split second—and even as he looked away, an expression of what appeared to be understanding as well as some other, unidentifiable emotion dawned on the elder Elric's face._

 _"_ _Al," he muttered. "Al, you're—" He shook his head frantically. "No. No, it can't be. This doesn't make any sense. It—" He broke off with a gasp, then seemed to consider something for a few moments. When he looked back up, he seemed to be able to see his brother once again, if only for that single, brief moment._

 _"_ _I'm sorry, Al," Ed whispered, not quite low enough that Al couldn't hear him. "I'm sorry."_

 _Why was his brother apologizing to him? Al simply didn't get it. There wasn't anything he needed to apologize for—but then again, Ed was always blaming himself even for things that were beyond his control._

 _But before Alphonse could even begin to voice his question, the world began to fade, and he had that terrible sensation of being pulled away from his older brother, even though he didn't seem to be moving an inch._

 _Regardless, Al tried his best to fight against it._

 _"_ _Brother!" he yelled. "Brother!"_

 _But soon he found himself yelling at nothing but a world of endless black._

His eyes popped open, and he sat up in bed, confused for several moments before realizing where he was. He sat there for a few moments, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes while he considered the dream he just had.

The whole thing had felt rather real to him, but then again, didn't some dreams just feel inexplicably real, anyway? And it wasn't like feeling that a dream actually happened made it any less of a dream, right? Even so, Al just couldn't shake the sense that what he'd just seen wasn't a simple conjuration of his desperate, unconscious mind, despite the fact that there really was no other logical explanation for it.

After all, if it had been reality, then why was his brother unable to see him, even though he was obviously right there?

He lay back down, still feeling exhausted enough to easily fall back asleep. He drifted in an out of consciousness, and dreamed about other, odd things that faded from his memory mere seconds after waking—but none of them included his brother, and none of them felt like they were anything more than a simple dream.

This continued on until he heard a little girl's voice call, "Big Brother, Big Brother, wake up!"

Little Elicia Hughes, who had just turned four very recently, climbed onto Al's bed and began tugging at his hand, an impatient look in her bright green eyes.

"Come on! Mommy's making pancakes for breakfast!" she told him.

"Elicia, I didn't tell you to wake him up," another voice chided her. He looked and saw Gracia Hughes standing there, looking a touch exasperated at the actions of her daughter.

Al smiled at her. "It's okay, Mrs. Hughes, really. I'm actually very hungry, anyway." His stomach rumbled loudly in response, confirming what he'd just said, and Gracia laughed gently.

"Well, I certainly hope so, because I just so happened to make quite a bit," she said, smiling back.

If possible, her words made him even more hungry. Since getting his body back, Al had continued to marvel at being able to taste things once more. And with food as delicious as Gracia's home-cooked meals, he couldn't imagine the sheer wonder of that particular sense ever disappearing.

He stood up, stretching his limbs briefly before saying, "Oh, by the way, thank you, as always, for letting me stay here." Honestly, Al felt as if he couldn't thank her enough.

"Alphonse, you should know by now that you don't have to thank me for this. I enjoy having you stay here with us, especially since you're always so helpful. And I'm pretty sure Elicia enjoys having you to play with. And anyway, it's... it's what Maes would've wanted."

Al didn't say anything right away, choosing to simply stare at the woman for a few moments. Suddenly, he threw himself at Gracia, hugging her tightly, not sure where the impulse came from but not particularly concerned about it, either. She hugged him back, and something about the whole situation tickled his memory, something that was somehow deeply familiar to him, but he couldn't figure out what it was at first.

It took him several moments to realize that Gracia's motherly embrace was, in fact, quite similar to the embraces of his own mother, which still stuck out vividly in his memory despite all the years he'd gone without them.

As he pulled away and headed towards the kitchen table, Al ended up thinking about it. A part of him still missed his mother's arms, and perhaps always would, even though the rest of him had long since accepted the harsh reality that she wasn't coming back. But that wasn't all he missed—there was another thing he missed, something that he'd hoped to feel the moment he got his body back, but didn't. Something that, unlike his mother's warmth, still existed, that he still had an opportunity to experience, of that he was sure.

And that was the warmth that emanated from his older brother.

* * *

 **As always, please review! I want to know if you thought the extra wait for this chapter was actually worth it or not.**


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